Torn From the Roots
by msperfectsheep
Summary: 4 strangers appear on 4 different continents. To the locals, they're practically alien, with a different language, clothes, and appearances. To them, they're lost, with no idea how to get back home. And while they want to go back, fate has other plans for them.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Unknown POV

With a start, he was awake. His body was slicked with sweat, beads of the salty liquid running down his skin and dripping onto the earth beneath him. The grass was soft and lush, and the air was filled with that certain salty humidity that made the man guess that he was near a coast. He tried to sit up, but the motion almost made him vomit. Slowing himself, he tried again.

Once he was sitting upright, he turned his head to view more of his surroundings. Nothing particularly interesting, but to the man, everything he saw was invaluable. The dirt was dark and rich, with the plants especially lush. The rocks with black and porous. And when he looked up, the mountain beside him wasn't just a mountain, but a volcano. The man made sure to note all of this, taking a sticky note pad and pen out of his jacket pockets.

When he was sure he could stand without getting vertigo, he eased himself up and stretched, feeling his bones pop. He scanned the horizon and spotted a dock near the waters. Where there was a dock, usually there were people. At the very least, there'd be something to give him more information.

He wobbled down the hill, trying his best to not fall. Feeling this weak was strange, something he hadn't experienced in several years. Not since he was small and helpless. He managed to get to a path, where the ground was much easier to stand on. He breathed out, wiping sweat from his brow.

"_Hello?_" He called, cupping his hands around his mouth. So far he hadn't seen any sign of there being a colony here, but he couldn't be sure. It wasn't the US, he was sure of that. So Hawaii was out.

No response. He treaded onwards, down the hill. The constant lapping of the waves was pleasant, but not reassuring.

"_Hello?_" He called again, raising his voice.

At least this time he got an answer. A young girl, no older than 7, with Eastern Asian features ran around a large boulder, dressed in a red and gold smock. Her eyes matched the gold from her dress, strikingly so.

He smiled at her, going from tall and intimidating to sweet and harmless with just a simple expression. The girl approached him carefully, observing him like he was unlike anything she'd ever seen before.

"_It's okay, I won't hurt you._" He said soothingly. He had no intention of doing so.

The girl responded with a slew of sounds that sounded vaguely like Japanese. The man stared at her for only a moment before recovering. Of course, there'd been a very big possibility he was in a place they didn't speak English.

He'd bent down on one knee and pointed to the boulder then her. She seemed to get the general gist, as she grabbed his hand and dragged him to a hut that was hidden from where he had been.

A man with a long graying beard to match his hair was sitting on the porch, making something. The girl let go of the lost man's hand and ran towards what the man assumed to be her father. She hugged her father and spoke quickly in the strange language, occasionally looking at the lost man.

Her father got up and approached him, inspecting him the same way she did. He spoke slowly to the lost man, enunciating each syllable as if that'd make the English-speaker understand. It didn't.

The native looked surprised at the man's reaction, like not speaking their language was uncommon. The man pointed at himself and slowly said,

"Wang."

The stranger repeated it, but the word sounded wrong to him, like that combination of syllables shouldn't exist. He then pointed to himself.

"Alfred."

Wang looked at Alfred as if he thought those syllables were as wrong sounding as "Wang" was to him. Reluctantly he sounded it out. "Arfled?"

"Alfred."

"Alfreed."

It was close enough. Alfred nodded and pointed at the girl. "_Who?_"

Wang blinked in confusion, but it seemed the girl got it. She smiled and pointed at herself. "Rika."

That wasn't too hard of a name. "Rika." He liked the way it sounded. The girl smiled so brightly she could've blinded him. Alfred laughed. Even with the language barrier, he could understand her.

He peeled off his jacket and wrapped around his waist, the heat becoming too much for him. The girl looked at him and said more gibberish. Alfred just shrugged, unable to understand. The girl seemed to take that as an answer, as she ran inside the shack. She came back out carrying an animal skin with a leather cord around it.

Alfred felt a wave of nostalgia. That looked like a canteen he'd owned back in his youth. Rika gave him the skin, which was, as he guessed, filled with water. It felt so nice to drink water that he finished the entire skin. The girl giggled and spoke to her father. Wang glanced at Alfred and sighed with a smile. He coaxed Alfred towards the house.

Inside their hut, Alfred was seated on a handmade chair in front of a table. Wang prepped dinner while little Rika babbled to Alfred in her language. Alfred was warmed by their hospitality. A sweet, simple family living on a beautiful island. It was like something from a fairytale.

Rika decided to run off to another room, leaving Alfred and Wang alone. Wang sliced the vegetables carefully, precision in every cut. Alfred decided to fill the silence with a song. But what to sing? Definitely, something that had an easy rhythm. He decided on an old favorite of his.

_"I've been working on the railroad_

_All the livelong day_

_I've been working on the railroad_

_Just to pass the time away_

_Can't you hear the whistle blowing_

_Rise up so early in the morn_

_Can't you hear the whistle blowing_

_Dinah, blow your horn_

_Dinah won't you blow_

_Dinah won't you blow_

_Dinah, won't you blow your horn_

_Dinah, won't you blow,_

_Dinah, won't you blow,_

_Dinah, won't you blow your horn_

_Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah_

_Someone's in the kitchen I know_

_Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah_

_Strumming on the old banjo_

_Fee fie fiddle eell o_

_Fee fie fiddle eell o_

_Fee fie fiddle eell o_

_Strumming on the old banjo."_

Rika returned when he was reaching the second verse, holding two dolls that resembled corn husk dolls. She didn't start playing with them until he was done with her song. She stared at him in wonder, her golden irises full of childish happiness. She tried singing the song, but it sounded all warbled. Alfred shook his head.

_"I've been."_ He said clearly.

"I'rve beehn." She repeated.

_"Working on."_

"Whurting ohn."

_"The railroad."_

"Zhe railload."

_"All the live"_

"Arle zhe live."

_"Long day."_

"Lonhg day."

She beamed and repeated her new sentence carefully. "I'rve beehn whurting ohn zhe railload arle zhe live lonhg day."

Alfred nodded. Her English was shaky, but her memory was fantastic. She sang the song while playing with her dolls. Alfred tapped his fingers to the beat. The duo continued their performance until Wang set the bowls of soup in front of them. It smelled delicious, especially to Alfred's empty stomach. He waited until his host started eating first, however, so he wouldn't do something to disrespect him or his culture.

It turned out that nothing needed to be done, be it was always good to err on the side of caution. He sipped the soup from the bowl, copying his host. The broth was light and salty, filled with strange vegetables Alfred had never seen. The meat was different as well, tasting like a mix of rabbit and pork. He ate it all.

By the time they finished eating, the sun was setting on the horizon. Alfred wasn't going to ask for more hospitality from these people if he didn't have to, but they insisted(through many gestures) that he stay the night. As far as he could figure, something good was happening soon.

Alfred agreed to stay.

-o-

It wasn't the next day. Or the day after that. Or the next week. Every night it seemed that something was coming, but every morning Alfred saw nothing. Wang and Rika practically adopted him, even going so far as to build him his own room in the house. While Wang worked outside on his garden or the house, Rika and Alfred taught each other their languages.

Alfred struggled with her language a lot more than she did his, which perplexed him. He was born with an affinity for languages, but it seemed to be working against him now. He'd forget words from the previous day. He messed up on pronunciation. He felt clumsy while learning.

Meanwhile, Rika was proving to be a prodigy. Her pronunciation was better than most non-native speakers, and her language was precise for how little she knew. Alfred found himself wanting to give up learning her language altogether and just teach her English, but he stayed with his commitment.

Today was 16 days after he'd arrived. Rika woke him up by flopping on him and giggling.

"_Morning!"_ She chirped. She bounced on Al's stomach, which did not feel great for the young man.

"_I want to lealn!" _She exclaimed. Of course, she wanted to learn. Alfred figured out a few days after they'd met that while Rika was intelligent for her age, she didn't get much of a chance to learn. Alfred arriving was like getting Christmas-level presents on a regular old Monday to her. And who was he to deny her knowledge?

He started with English, wanting to build up enough of a vocabulary for her to understand other topics. They practiced writing in the sand. And as a special treat, Alfred taught her a song every night.

Today's lesson was Useful Phrases

_"Stop." _He stated. He then rolled a round stone on the sand and waited for it to stop moving. Once it had, he repeated the word. _"Stop."_

Rika seemed to understand. She drew a rain cloud and then a regular cloud. _"Stop. No water."_

Alfred nodded with pride. _"Go." _He said as he moved the rock again. He then pointed as the tide started receding. _"Go."_

This continued as the sun reached its peak in the sky, the duo creating a way for them to understand each other.

Alfred laid back on the sand and pretended to sleep, closing his eyes. _"Sleep."_

She mimicked him, first saying the word in her own language and then English. Al sat up and wiped the sweat from his skin. His glasses and jacket were inside his "room", safely tucked away where they wouldn't be destroyed. Rika tilted her head. _"What wrohng?"_

Alfred patted his stomach. _"Hungry."_

She nodded. _"I hungly."_

Alfred corrected her. _"I'm hungry too."_

She repeated it before standing and pulling on his hand. _"Go!"_

Alfred nodded at her correct use and followed her inside. Wang was out for the day, exploring the island for resources. Alfred dug inside their stores and found a good amount of ingredients to make a decent lunch.

Rika watched dutifully as he chopped the vegetables and dried meat. Alfred slowed enough for her to see his movements before handing her the knife. He guided her hand and slowly, she cut an entire fruit resembling a mix between a bell pepper and a strawberry. She looked at him, eyes sparkling.

He let her cut the rest(with his help of course) and when it was all done, he slid the chopped ingredients onto a metal sheet. He transferred the sheet to a fire pit outside, where the coals were kept glowing day and night. Carefully, he cooked the vegetables and meat together, gently stirring the mix so none would fall into the fire. It smelt good. He used two blocks of wood carved for holding the plate and brought it out of the fire and inside. While he and Rika ate, his mind drifted elsewhere.

What was going on back home? He was stranded, and after many tries with his cell phone, he'd figured he had no reception. The internet didn't even load. He hoped his job was doing fine without his management. Sure, not many people even knew he worked there, but his job was crucial to the business.

-o-

Rika POV

While lost in his thoughts, Rika happily ate the strange meal Alfred made. Ever since he arrived, she didn't feel lonely. Papa got to explore. Rika was glad, and secretly, she wished Alfred would never leave.

As she stuffed a piece of chicken-snake in her mouth, she heard a familiar horn from the ocean. She got up and ran outside, and there it was. The ship. Alfred followed her outside and stared at the ship.

He looked happy, confused, and even a little scared. Rika hugged him so he would feel better. It worked because he smiled once she did. _Good thinking Rika._

He muttered something in his language, words too complicated for Rika to understand fully. She caught a few words, like "What" and "here". She felt frustrated she couldn't tell him.

The ship got closer to shore, water hitting the sides of the vessel. It was smaller than the last one but still massive. Before she could do anything, Alfred ran down the mountain towards the beach. Rika tried to follow, but Alfred was too fast. She tripped and fell, rolling down the grass and into a clump of bushes.

"Owie."

She got quite a few scrapes and cuts, but she couldn't cry. Alfred got cut once and he didn't cry. She was a big girl.

She stood wobbly and carefully took the same path, now knowing to avoid her previous mistake. When she reached the dock, the ship was already tethering itself to the poles. Alfred looked up at the ship, and Rika was surprised that she couldn't read his face.

_"Bad."_ He muttered. "_Thisses bad._"

She understood the "bad", but not really. Why was the ship bad? They helped her and papa. And they would probably help Alfred too.

The boat made a hissing-grinding noise as a plank fell from above. The first to walk down was none other than Prince Zuko himself. Rika bowed respectfully, as her Papa taught her. Alfred just stood, watching.

Prince Zuko ignored Rika, which, in all honesty, was a good thing. She didn't want to make him mad. He was a firebender. He just stared at Alfred.

"Who are you?" He asked scarily. Alfred stayed silent, unable to understand. Rika got to her feet and tried to translate to Alfred.

_"Who you?"_

Alfred looked down at her. His eyes were grateful and something else. He answered slowly in her language.

"I am Alfred."

Rika was so proud. His pronunciation was great! Prince Zuko didn't look happy at all though.

"Do you not understand me? Are you deaf?"

Rika couldn't translate. She didn't know how to say that to Alfred. Alfred stayed quiet. The Prince scowled and tried speaking in a strange way. Rika was confused. It sounded completely different from English, but apparently Alfred knew it. He responded in the same language. The Prince didn't that angry anymore, but he did look confused.

This made Rika wonder who Alfred was even more.

-o-

Alfred POV

The boy from the boat was no older than 16, but the intensity in his eyes matched that of someone wrongly convicted and condemned. The scar that marred the right side of his face was red and raw-looking, despite Alfred knowing it had to be a few years old.

He spoke in the same language as Rika and Wang, but Alfred could feel the authority dripping off every jumble of sounds. Obviously he had some power, as little Rika bowed to him with no question. Alfred stood his ground. He wouldn't bow until he knew who he was bowing for.

The boy stared at him and asked him what sounded like a question, but Alfred could not answer. Luckily, Rika could.

_"Who you?"_ Rika translated. Alfred thought about his answer but chose a simple approach.

"I am Alfred." He said in the native tongue. The boy watched him before saying something else. Alfred didn't understand, and by the look on Rika's face, she couldn't translate. The boy scowled at him.

**"Do you understand this?" **He asked in Japanese. Alfred was surprised. He recognized this language, and luckily, knew how to speak it.

**"Yes, I do. Who are you?"** He asked this as formally as possible, trying to not anger the boy. He might be young, but that didn't exactly mean he didn't have power.

**"I am Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation. What about you?"**

Alfred frowned. A prince. He didn't like monarchies for various reasons, but he didn't know enough about this "Fire Nation" to form a reasonable opinion. He responded the same way as before. **"I am Alfred."**

The Prince looked lost. **"What nation are you from?"**

Alfred could see Rika walking away in his peripheral vision, but didn't look her way. He needed to keep his focus on Zuko.

**"The US of A. Where am I currently?"**

The Prince blinked. **"Ash Island. I've never heard of the US of A. If I show you a map, can you point it out?"**

Alfred could see confusion was plaguing both of their minds. It was like they were still speaking two different languages. Maybe he was more familiar with the name America? Alfred couldn't figure it out. **"Sure."**

The Prince turned swiftly and walked up the gangplank without even looking back. Alfred followed with an eye roll. Damn royals.

-o-

The ship was hot and smelly inside, stinking of body odors Alfred wished he had Febreeze for. It seemed to be completely metal, but Alfred couldn't tell what type. Probably steel. The prince walked down the corridors with the same confidence as someone who was giving a house tour, familiar with every doorway and turn. Alfred would've explored every room if he could, but for now, he'd respect the prince's property. He vaguely wondered if "The Fire Nation" was a nickname for a country that he was unaware of, like how Japan was "The Land of the Rising Sun".

The prince went inside a room. It was large and filled with chests overflowing with papers. On the wall hung a tapestry, simple and striking. It was red with a black flame insignia weaved into the fibers. Below it was a table with a map stretched across its surface. The prince gestured at it impatiently. **"Well?"**

Alfred studied the map. He expected it to be a map of the Pacific, or maybe the world, but this map was very, very different.

It was hand-drawn, stylistically matching many maps made before globalization was the norm. The landmasses had little detail other than being colored seemingly at random. The landmasses were unfamiliar. There was no title or label, or even a year. No key was anywhere on the map.

In short, Alfred was lost. He scratched his head. **"I really don't know. What is this map even of?"**

The prince grew annoyed. **"The world, you idiot! How do you not know where your home is when you know how to speak High Court?"**

Alfred was taken aback by this boy's rudeness. He was what, 14? **"I'm sorry if your map is crappier than elephant dung. Stupid kid."**

Apparently the Prince not only was snotty but also had anger issues. His face scrunched up with fury and he punched straight at Alfred. Alfred, having been in more than his fair share of fights, ducked.

What he hadn't expected was the _freaking flame_ that shot out of the kid's hand. Alfred had ducked low enough that he wasn't hurt, but if he'd been a little higher...

To put it nicely, Alfred would not be happy. The boy didn't give up after one punch either, because of course not. He roundhouse kicked at Alfred, and with his new knowledge of the boy's supernatural affinity for fire, Alfred jumped away. Another flame.

Alfred scrambled for the exit, trying to get out of such a tight area. Normally he didn't run from fights, but this was different. He was sorely underprepared. It was almost as bad as bringing a water balloon to a gunfight.

The prince chased after him down the halls. Alfred ran down random corridors, hoping they would lead outside. It was just his luck that they ended up in the boiler room. How'd he even get lower on the ship?

This room was, if even possible, hotter than the rooms above. Alfred was sweating through his shirt, but he had no time to take it off. Mr. Hot Head shot two more flame-charged punches at Alfred, which he ducked. Alfred scanned for any place to run. Nowhere. Damnit.

The prince smirked. **"You're trapped, **_**Alfred**_**."**

Alfred smirked. **"Not quite." **He kicked the prince's legs, sending him falling. Alfred ran, leaving the angry prince behind. Now where to go? Off the boat would be too dangerous. They could hurt Rika and Wang. He'd hide inside.

He ran through the boiler room and into a storage closet. He held his breath, hiding behind a barrel of salty-smelling meat. The room was dark and dry, relatively cool compared to the rest of the ship. He heard the prince's footsteps go by the room and he gave a small sigh of relief. He sat there, waiting, for what seemed like forever. Eventually, he fell asleep, lost to the world of dreams.

He had no idea what awaited him.


	2. Chapter 2

Book 1: Fire-Chapter 2

Unknown POV

Cold. All he felt was the chilling cruelty of the cold biting at his skin. The man curled into a ball, trying to warm himself. He was used to cold, sure, but even this was bad.

All this made him want to go back to sleep. To the world of dreams where no one would bother him. Oh, how nice that would be. He could feel his limbs becoming numb, but why should he even care? He could just fall asleep and not worry about it.

A slew of sounds that were vaguely feminine came from nearby.

The man shifted, dazed. There were people here with him? Why? He creaked open an eyelid unwillingly, letting curiosity get the best of him.

A young, dark-skinned girl with eyes as bright as aquamarine was less than 2 inches away from his face. The man almost screamed from fright, but he didn't.

He was quiet by default and screaming felt unnatural for him. Instead, he stared back, opening both of his eyes to get the full view. Behind the girl, he could see he was in some sort of room with white walls, but without his glasses, he couldn't register the depth. Two more people similarly dressed to the girl were in the background.

He tried to speak, but all the came was wet spluttering. His lungs hurt as he gulped in breaths of air. He felt an irrational rush of panic from all of this, which made him sit up.

His head smacked straight into the girl's. Of course it did. He fell back onto his mat, groaning. His head throbbed and his body shook from how cold he was. He longed to be in his home, sipping coffee and even doing paperwork. At least he was comfortable there.

But no, instead he was in a freezer.

From what he could observe, the girl was having roughly the same reaction as him, but more vocal. She yelped and started yelling in a language that sounded strange to his ears. A snicker came from one of the two people in the back.

One of the figures approached him. As she got closer, her features became more prominent. The deep wrinkles on her face. The white in her hair. The age in her eyes.

The old woman bent down and pressed her hand to the man's skin. Her hand was so warm. He tried to speak again, but all he had was another coughing fit. The old woman patted the girl on the leg as if telling her to go do something. The girl ran off, leaving the man with the old lady and the blurred figure in the back.

The woman murmured something in the language before handing the man his glasses. They were even colder than he was, and the lenses were covered in ice. He tried brushing it off gently, but it didn't work very well. He sighed. He'd have to wait for them to thaw.

The young girl came back carrying something that steamed. She poured it into an earthenware mug for him and held it out respectfully. The man took it and sipped.

It was tea. Warm, soothing tea. It slid down his throat easily, warming his insides. He hummed in delight before taking another sip. Within moments, the cup was drained.

Once more, he tried to speak. This time, thankfully, it worked.

_"Thank you."_

The old woman looked surprised. The young girl blinked before saying something in her language in reply. By the ending, it sounded like a question, but the man couldn't understand. The old woman seemed to get this, as she patted the young girl on the shoulder and murmured something.

The man tried thinking of a way to thank them, but nothing came to mind. The old woman's voice was low, but he understood when she pointed at herself. "Kanna."

She then pointed at the man "Ni?"

The Chinese word for you. It seemed their language was a jumble of different Asian languages together, everything from Russian to Vietnamese. This would be hard for him to translate, even if he knew the majority of the languages.

_"Matthew."_ He answered. _"Matthew Williams."_

Kanna shrugged as if he'd spoken Shakespeare instead of his name. "Mate-hews Willyams?"

It was close enough. He nodded, hoping that meant yes in her culture. By the look on her face, it did. At least there was some consistency.

Kanna offered Matthew more tea, but he politely shook his head. He pointed at her warm looking fur coat then rubbed his arms. Kanna got some message from that and yelled at the back. They ran out, coming back with a coat, gloves, and boots. Matthew slid them on and waited for his body temperature to heat himself up.

This was going to be a very long day by the looks of it.

-o-

The dinner that night was quiet, with almost everyone from the small secluded village staring at Matthew. He could understand why, in a way at least.

After Kanna helped him up, she showed him around her village. It was smaller than a Giant Tiger parking lot, shaped like a circle with high snow walls surrounding the dwellings. In total there were 14 families he could count, with all men older than a teen missing. Either it was a hunting expedition or something worse. A war.

He gave into wearing the frost-covered glasses, figuring they'd warm after being close to his face for long enough. It seemed everyone in the village was the same race, with their brown hair and skin contrasting their blue eyes. He felt a bit self-conscious about his pale appearance, but there was nothing he could do to change it. Luckily, he was treated by the villagers with kindness. The adults showed him around, the children played games, and the two-preteens tried to communicate.

The keyword was tried.

They went for something along the lines of Pictionary at the dinner table, doing weird poses and expressions before bickering in their language. Matthew smiled at their antics while he sipped his soup. It was, to put it nicely, unusual. The broth was salty, but the main ingredient, a brownish lumpy fruit, was overwhelmingly sour. But, he couldn't take their charity for granted. In this landscape, food must've been hard to come by. So he ate every part of the stew. The taste wasn't too bad after a while.

After dinner, the tweens-Matthew figured they must be siblings-took Matthew outside to an icy cliff facing the sea. The children laid down in the snow and pointed at the sky, talking. Matthew didn't exactly know why he was taken with them, but he did what did. Into the snow he went.

He thanked God the coat had a hood.

-o-

Katara's POV

"Oh. My. La. Sokka, you can't just ask _that_!"

The siblings were sitting at the dinner table, right across the stranger. They were taking turns asking questions to him, but all they got were vacant smiles and confused looks in response. The game was to try and find a sentence he knew.

Sokka shrugged. "What? It's an honest question. I wanted to know."

"That's so insensitive! What if he was teased about his hair back in his hometown?" Katara theorized.

"Yeah, because he's going to care about some _supposed_ insults when he can't even understand a basic "Hello. But, you're right Katara, I'm definitely in the wrong here." He replied sarcastically.

"Well excuse me if I actually try! Maybe if we speak weird he'll understand us? It could be that he thinks we have a bad accent."

The stranger, Matthew-what a weird name-, made a weird face as he ate a sea prune. Katara rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. "Fine. Let's keep playing though."

"Deal. Hey stranger, what is that on your nose?" Sokka said, touching his nose.

Katara felt like banging her head into a wall. Sokka could be so _infuriating_ at times that she honestly wished he'd fall into the water one day with no ice nearby.

"Maybe we should be simpler?" She suggested. "Maybe he was raised alone by a deaf parent! He could maybe not know how to speak."

"I dunno Katara, sounds kinda crazy."

"Do you have a better theory?"

"Well...no...but I'm sure it'll come to me!" Sokka tried.

"Just like your beard?" She taunted.

"Hey! That's not fair!"

The fighting ensued once more.

-o-

Matthew's POV

The sky was beautiful. Stars stretched out as far as he could see, the twinkling entities floating in darkness. Matthew forgot about the cold, lost in his wonder. Even after looking at the sky for so long, Matthew was still in awe of its beauty. Gentle waves lapped at the ice, giving a metronomic pattern. The siblings were quiet, looking with him.

It was breathtaking.

The girl eventually got up, holding out her hand to Matthew. She smiled warmly, so full of innocence and purity. Matthew took her hand and was led back to the village, the boy following him on the other side. The two children argued with Kanna until the old woman gave up. The children looked beyond excited, grabbed Matthew, and pushed him in their tent. A third sleeping bag was on the floor. They wanted him to stay with them, despite him being an absolute stranger. Matthew was touched.

He slid inside and relaxed as it grew warm and comfortable. He was lost, but at least charity was universal.

He fell asleep with that happy thought.

8 moon cycles later

"Matthew! Wake up wake up wake up!"

Matthew woke, feeling groggy. He groaned and turned over in his sleeping bag, trying to fall back asleep.

_"5 more minutes Al...please..." _He muttered sleepily.

"Stop talking weird! Wake UP!" Matthew felt a light kick to his stomach. Not enough to hurt, but plenty to wake him. His eyes flew open and he sat up angrily.

_"Who-"_ He started, before switching to the other language. English would do him no good. "Who is this? Katara? Sokka?" He said fluently. Having an affinity for languages was very useful.

He grabbed his glasses and slipped them on. Katara. She was practically floating from excitement, though Matthew had no idea why. She yanked on his arm, pulling it up and down. "Come on come on come on! Dad's coming!"

"What?" Her dad? The famous one she and Sokka would never stop talking about?

"Yeah! Sokka spotted their ship this morning! They're going to dock any minute now! Hurry!" She yanked his arm again.

Matthew gave in and slipped out of his sleeping bag. He understood the majority of what she said. "Fine. But your dad doesn't know me. I'm different." He was still self-conscious of his appearance. The blonde hair, the violet eyes, the height. In all his time with the Water Tribe, not once had he seen or heard of anyone like him.

Katara dropped his arm. "Matthew, just because you look strange doesn't mean we can be friends."

Matthew wished everyone had that opinion, but sadly there were people who would gladly disagree with Katara's statement. He brushed off that unpleasant thought with an unassuming smile.

"How do I look?"

Katara laughed. "Like you just woke up. Come, I'll quickly brush your hair. Sit down."

Matthew sat, and Katara gently brushed through his hair. He didn't mind it at all. Reminded him of when all his cousins would gather at Arthur's house, and Lucia, his cousin from the Virgin Islands, would braid his hair. Katara finished with a satisfied huff. "Great! Now let's go!"

Matthew stood and followed her out of the dock. Everyone was gathered outside, and to Matthew's delight, almost everyone was smiling. A rare sight in the Water Tribe. Children shot questions at their mothers about their fathers, curious about their other parent. Sokka stood on the war, spyglass in hand. "Docking in 3 minutes!" He shouted.

Katara bounced. "Oh, I'm so excited. I haven't seen Dad in ages!"

Matthew played with a ball of snow absentmindedly. "What's he like?"

"He's tall, like you, but his hair is long and dark. He's a really good fighter and storyteller."

"And he leads the Tribe, right?"

"Yep! Dad's the leader!" Katara confirmed. "Isn't that coo-"

"-They're docking!" Sokka yelled. Katara stopped talking and ran as fast as she could, dragging Matthew behind. The blonde stumbled at first, but he quickly found his footing and matched her pace. She scaled the wall of snow easily, determination and elation powerful enough to defy gravity. It was easy for Matthew, but he matched Katara's pace. Once on top of the wall, she slid down the other side and ran towards the fleet of ships. Men in blue were unloading the vessels.

"DAD!" She yelled.

Sokka was already ahead of them, hugging a tall, weathered man. Matthew stayed back, watching the interaction from afar. He didn't want to ruin such a touching moment. Katara and Sokka were crying, hugging their father. Matt walked near them, but instead of meeting the chief he started helping the men unload the ship.

He hoisted a large chest and brought it to where they started setting the rest of their things, placing it down carefully. By now he was used to the cold, but that didn't mean it wasn't easy to move in. Winter was upon them, with the days getting so short that the sun soon wouldn't rise at all. He wondered how these people coped.

He heard the snow crunching behind him. He turned and came face to face with Katara and Sokka's father. They were almost the same height, with the native man only beating him by less than an inch.

"Are you Maythyew?" He asked, stumbling over Matthew's name as everyone did at first.

Matthew nodded gently. "I am, sir."

The man regarded him with stern eyes. Not cruel or mean, but weathered. "And you've stayed with my village and family for how long?"

"8 moons sir. They took care of me since I have no idea where my home even is."

His face softened just a bit. "How old are you?"

"19, but my birthday just happened before I came here."

He nodded solemnly. "Young then. I am Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe. You may stay as long as necessary."

Katara smiled widely. "Isn't that great Matthew?"

Matthew smiled back. "It is. Thank you so much."

An arctic wind blew. Hakoda frowned. "A storm's coming. Saw it as we were pulling in. Held me carry things into the village Sokka. Show Matehyew how to do it."

Katara tugged on her dad's arm. "How can I help?"

Hakoda kissed her on the forehead. "Go into the village and help make dinner. The men are hungry."

Matthew could tell she wanted to argue but withheld her comment. "Yes, Dad." She muttered, turned and shuffling back to the village. Matthew's eyes followed her until Sokka tapped him on the shoulder.

"Gotta hurry. Help me lift this crate, okay?"

Matthew nodded and picked up the crate, wincing at the weight. Sokka looked surprised. "Huh, a lot lighter than I thought. Anyways, let's get this back home." The two shuffled towards the village.

The wind picked up halfway through. It ripped at Matthew's coat and tore at his skin, howling angrily. Snow blinded him.

"Just a little farther!" Sokka shouted.

Matthew shook his head, trying to get the snow out of his eyes. He lost concentration and dropped the crate, forcing Sokka to do the same. He wiped his glasses and put them back on.

Sokka and the crate were gone. He heard yelling to his left, but it was faint over the howling wind. He chased after it, the yelling getting louder.

"-not gonna be happy! No no no no no no no no no!" Sokka was clinging to the crate as it slid down an icy path towards the sea. Matthew sprinted and grabbed the edge of the crate, pulling as much as possible. The wood started to splinter.

Matthew let go. The box slid into the ocean.

"What'd you do that for?" Sokka yelled. "Dad probably spent a lot of money on that!"

Matthew ignored the boy, staring over the edge into the snow-covered sea. The waves were calling to him. Without particularly knowing what he was doing, he moved his arms. It felt like he was tugging at something. He continued, putting more effort into the motions. The tugging was stronger. More.

The box emerged, covered in ice. It bobbed in the waves, happily floating in its icy shell. Sokka stared.

"You didn't do that...right?"

Matthew stared at his own gloved hands. In truth, he had no idea.

-o-

After that, the duo stayed silent. Sokka helped Matthew retrieve the chest, but with it being covered in ice, lugging it back to the camp was much more laborious. The storm didn't make it better. Matthew was pelted with snow so much that he could barely see. He just kept walking, hoping Sokka was leading them to the right spot.

Thankfully he had been. They nearly crashed into the snowy walls of the Southern Water Tribe's village. Sokka groaned. "We can't take it inside. It's too heavy to get over the wall. We'll grab it after the blizzard."

Matthew nodded, too tired to argue. He and Sokka stumbled up the wall and fell down the other side, sliding into the clearing. The boys hurried inside the main igloo, anxious to get out of the storm.

Within the igloo, there was laughter and chatter. The adults laughed, hugged, and kissed each other after being away for so long. The children played with their fathers. Matthew sat at the table, watching it all from the view of an outsider. Sokka and Katara sat on his sides, watching as well.

"Dad's busy helping Gran-gran with food." Katara supplied. "How is it outside?"

"Miserable," Sokka replied. "The crate-"

Matthew shot him a look. He didn't know why, but he didn't want more of a reason to be different from the locals. Sokka stopped, and their eyes locked.

"The crate weighed a ton. My back feels like a blubbered seal sat on me."

Matthew was grateful. He'd tell Katara later, but not in front of the whole tribe. In private.

"It definitely was heavy, _eh_?" He said, laughing a little. His brother could've carried it easily.

Sokka's nose scrunched up. "What does_ eh _mean?"

Oops. It slipped out naturally. Damn stereotypes. "It's a word in my language that's kind of like a question of agreement. Like if I say "It was cold, right?", the "right" acts like _eh_."

Katara tried it out. "It's cold, _eh_?" She searched Matthew's face for approval. He smiled.

"That's correct." He could hear his brothers yelling at him for teaching the Canadian "eh" to the locals, but he didn't care. They wanted to know.

As the siblings went to go talk to other tribe members, Matthew was left alone at the table, with the celebratory Sea Prune Stew that the locals loved. He'd eaten Lutefish, 1000-year-old eggs, Maggot Cheese and more, but Sea Prunes seemed to top them all. Nothing about them was appealing even in the slightest.

The skin was leathery and tough raw, but when boiled became leathery and slimy. The insides were like intestines, little tubes of fruit arranged randomly. You were supposed to bite open the fruit and let its bowels become the noodles in the stew, but Matthew decided long ago that he could get through this quicker if he just ate it whole.

He picked one of the fruits up with his dolphin-whale bone fork and popped it in his mouth. The taste of it was pure salt mixed with something else he couldn't identify. He swallowed it whole, hoping his stomach wouldn't reject it.

He did the same for the next 3 as well, happy to be finally done with the daunting task by the time the 4th slid down his throat. He grimaced, hoping he wouldn't vomit this time.

Taking his mind off of the fruit, Matthew sipped his broth and thought about his accident today. The ice. The tugging. It pulled at him, and he had to push himself away from its grasp. It was so strange. He glanced at Sokka, who was waving a boomerang in the air. He'd ask the kid later when he told Katara.

Deep inside, he knew something within him had awoken. Something powerful.

He just didn't know what.

-o-

The next morning, after celebrations, Matthew and Sokka were given the task of lugging the chest inside. The storm passed quickly, leaving behind a good layer of fresh snow on everything but no real damage. Katara decided to follow, per usual. With the three of them alone outside the wall, Matthew decided now was the right time to discuss the other day's events. Katara was going to find out anyways with the chest covered in ice.

He slid down the well-built wall of the village like he was snowboarding. "Hey, Katara, I have something to tell you."

Katara ran down the slope and did a somersault on impact. Standing up and brushing snow out of her hair, she asked, "What is it?"

"Well, yesterday, Sokka and I were told to bring a chest back to the village and we-"

"He created ice!" Sokka interrupted. "Matthew did magic!"

Matthew pursed his lips. "Well, I wouldn't say Magic. A few of my brothers are magic-users. I'd know if it was magic." is what he was tempted to say, but he realized that'd only make him look worse.

"It felt like...a tugging," he said meekly.

Katara tilted her head curiously and thought about it. "Like...a push and a pull?"

Matthew blinked, surprised by her accuracy. "Yeah."

Katara's face broke into a wide smile. She ran and hugged Matthew, something he wasn't expecting. "I knew I wasn't the only one!"

"What?"

"Matthew, you're a Waterbender! Gran-Gran figured out I was one a few moons before you came, but I thought I was the only one!"

Matthew was confused. Waterbender? Wasn't that a thing special to the Northern Water Tribe? He'd been told about how there were none left in the South Pole.

"Can you show me what you can do?" She asked once she finally released him from the hug.

He felt awkward being put on the spot. He wasn't used to so much attention. Sokka was glaring at Matthew, which hurt him just a little. Was this a thing to be feared?

"It's okay if you're nervous. I'm not very good either." Katara urged. Matthew gave in. He stared at the snow, waiting for the tug. It didn't come. He tried waving his hands as he did before. Nothing.

Katara looked a bit disappointed. "That's okay, we can practice later. You probably need time to wake up."

"Or maybe it was just a freak accident," Sokka said, startling the both of them. "Come on, we have a job to do, Matthew."

He could feel Sokka's uneasiness. "Yeah. Katara, mind helping out?"

"She's just a girl. She can't do anything."

Matthew shook his head, stopping Katara from her usual rant. "Sokka, imagine you're fighting in the war. A Firenation girl approaches you, asking for shelter. Since she's just a girl, you let her in your home. You wake up to find all your weapons were taken and your home is on fire. The enemy will use whoever they can to defeat you. Don't underestimate people based off of outward characteristics."

Sokka raised his hand to protest but stopped. "But Katara isn't evil. All Firenation people are."

Matthew sighed. He was too innocent, unscarred by war and apparently, logic. "Nevermind. Let's just get the box inside."

The three of them lugged it over the wall and into the tent. The contents were standard, with mostly food and booze, but Matthew knew every resource was important to the village.

He looked at the sky, darkening already due to how short the winter days were. He supposed telling a story or two to the children would help the time pass.

They gathered in his tent, about 7 or so little kids plus Sokka and Katara. He cleared his throat.

"I haven't told stories in ages, so forgive me."

"It's okay!" A little girl piped up. "Can you tell us about your old home?"

His old home, huh? He could do that. "I come from a nation known as Canada. It's in the northern part of the world. In the summer, it's pleasant. You can walk around with just a simple tunic and not be cold. There are trees, and grass, and a lot of farming. But in the winter, its snows a bunch. And guess what? In my old home, people can speak two different languages even though they're from the same country."

"What do they sound like?" A boy asked.

"Can you say "I'm Matthew and I'm from Canada" in both of them?" Another kid added.

"Sure. '_I'm Matthew and I'm from Canada.'_ and '_Je suis Matthieu et je viens du Canada_'" He said.

"Woah. That sounds weird." A kid giggled.

Matthew laughed. "I guess it does. Your language is weird to me."

The kids laughed at this and kept pestering Matthew with an endless barrage of questions. The hours slipped by with laughter and smiles. When it was all said and done, the kids left the tent, leaving Katara, Sokka, and Matthew together.

Sokka laid back on his sleeping bag. "Hey, Matthew, is what you said actually true?"

"What do you mean?"

Sokka sat back up. "Well, like, I study maps all the time and I've never seen a "Canada" on them."

"Oh, that." Matthew was silent for a while. He'd been suspicious of this, especially with them not even knowing what English was. The names of countries, the war, all of it he'd never heard of until arriving at the village. He hoped this was just a result of Al's shenanigans or Arthur's magic, but after living here for about 7 months, he really wasn't sure. Each day his unease grew. He knew he had to give an answer.

"It's a story just for fun. I'm from the Earth Kingdom." He lied smoothly.

Katara was the next to sit up. "I wish what you described was real. It sounded really fun."

"I knew it," Sokka muttered. "But how can you be a Waterbender if you're from the Earth Kingdom?"

"I bet one of my parents was from one of the Water Tribes. I never met them, so it's possible."

"Huh."

Silence filled the tent. Matthew felt terrible for lying, but it was for the best. He snuggled himself inside his sleeping bag, and eventually, the world of dreams welcomed him.

-o-

6 moons later

Matthew was eating his breakfast of fish and baked kelp on a fairly regular day. The sun was out bright and early, as expected for the summer. The men of the tribe were gone, leaving Matthew as the oldest. Sokka was training the little boys in the art of fighting while Katara wove baskets. Matthew acted as both, teaching the boys strategy while weaving a basket.

"If you're on a hill, use it to your advantage. Your enemy will either have to climb or go around, so protect the sides and front. You have the vantage point, so don't give it up." he instructed.

Sokka nodded. "You must hold the fort. Everyone, to your positi-"

"Lunchtime!" One of the mothers called. The children lost interest and ran to go eat. Sokka sighed, defeated.

Matthew smiled. "Let them have fun. They're just kids."

Katara came by. "Yeah, Sokka. Don't be a party pooper." She teased.

Sokka rolled his eyes. "Hey Matt, we were thinking of going fishing while the kids ate lunch today. Wanna join?"

Matthew had been on one fishing trip with the siblings before, and all he remembered from it was regretting going. The bickering was endless. But that'd been he was new to the tribe. Maybe this time, he could stop them from being so petulant. Maybe.

He looked at the sun, which was nearing its apex. He could spare some time.

"Okay."

Katara smiled. "Go help Sokka with the canoe. I'll grab a net." She ran into the storeroom.

Sokka rubbed his hands together. "Oh, I can already smell the fish cooking. Hurry up, maybe we can even get a seal!"

"I doubt it." Matthew laughed, walking with the boy towards the sea. They untied a canoe and filled it with Sokka's spear, waterskins, and a few iceberries in case they got peckish. Katara ran up with a decent sized fishing net and hopped in. They pushed off the canoe, and the adventure began.

It was a slow start. Sokka's paddling glided the canoe at a gentle pace, making the ride more relaxing than invigorating. And Matthew couldn't help because they only took one paddle. Eventually, they got between some glaciers, which was the optimal place for spearing fish. Two fish swam by, one near Katara and one by Sokka. As the siblings argued(like he predicted), Matthew watched as Katara uneasily used Waterbending to pick up the fish and move it through the air in a little sphere of water.

"Matthew, your turn!" She had been teaching him everything she knew about Waterbending, which, while it wasn't much, was enough to let him catch the sphere as she gave up control over it. He maneuvered it to the other side of the canoe when Sokka raised his spear and popped the sphere. The fish went flying back into the water and the sphere's contents dumped themselves all over the boy.

"Ugh! Why is it that every time_ you_ do magic,_ I_ get soaked?" He yelled, directing the attack at Katara.

"I'm helping Matthew learn! And it isn't magic, its Waterbending!"

He slid down the side of the canoe, letting the siblings bicker. There was a sudden bump, and Matthew sat straight up. The pace of the canoe increased, and Sokka was desperately trying to maneuver the canoe. Katara was shouting instructions. Matthew threw off his gloves and thrust his hand into the water, helping Sokka paddle. Icebergs crashed into each other and the boat, forcing Matthew to pull back his hand and times. But no matter what, it seemed to be doing nothing.

"Watch out!" Katara yelled. "Go left! Go left!"

He couldn't steer the vessel left. Two icebergs slammed both sides of the boat, and it smashed into pieces. The three of them were thrown onto a chunk of ice. Katara nearly slid into the water, but Matthew grabbed her. His glasses slid into the depths.

Without any hesitation, he dove into the water. He grabbed his glasses about 10 feet or so down and went straight back up onto the ice chunk. Gasping, he laid on the ice, too cold to care about Sokka and Katara's bickering. His face burned from how cold his skin was. At least he had his glasses.

"Ever since mom died, I've been doing all the work around camp while you go off and play soldier!" Matthew snapped out of his daze. The ice was bobbing a little too much.

"Uh, Katara?" Sokka tried.

"I even wash all of the clothes! Have you ever smelled your dirty socks? Let me tell you, NOT PLEASANT!" Katara yelled.

Matthew's eyes widened in horror as the massive iceberg behind Katara was split by her anger.

"Katara, settle down!" Sokka pleaded. Matthew tried to hold the iceberg together with his Waterbending.

"No, that's it! I'm done helping you! From now on, you're on your OWN!" The iceberg fell apart just as Katara turned to see what she'd done. Matthew clung onto the ice for dear life and they were washed away in a tidal wave of icy water.

"Okay, you've gone from weird to freakish Katara. Why can't you and Matthew be normal?" Sokka scolded.

"You mean I did that?" She asked, amazed.

"Yep, congratulations."

Matthew was going to input his side of the story when the water beneath the ice started glowing an aquamarine blue and bubbling. He scrambled back as globular iceberg emerged from the depths.

Once it was clear the ice wouldn't shake anymore, he got to his feet and joined the kids. Inside the ice were two shadows. A massive one, and one that looked like a boy with glowing arrows on his head and arms.

He jumped back as the eyes of the boy opened, glowing almost pure white. He'd seen some weird stuff, but this crossed the line.

"He's alive!" Katara exclaimed. Matthew edged away. "We have to help!" She grabbed Sokka's pickaxe and ran towards the iceberg. Sokka chased after her, and eventually, so did Matthew.

"Katara, get back here! We don't know what that thing is!" Sokka yelled.

She started slamming the weapon into the ice.

"No! Don't!" Matthew urged, but it was too late. With a final swing, she crashed open the iceberg like an egg. Air rushed out and flung her and Sokka back. Matthew had been wise enough to stay low.

As it shattered, light burst from it and shot straight into the air. The water shook. Pieces of ice rained down on them. And the glowing boy crawled over the edge.

"Stop!" shouted Sokka, pointing his spear at the stranger. Its stood at full height before the light from it faded and it fell to the ground.

Katara caught it and cradled it in her arms. Matthew cautiously approached it. It was a bald boy in loose orange and yellow clothes with blue arrow tattoos where the light was emitted from. Sokka poked the boy's head with the butt of his spear, seeing if he was alive. Katara eventually got fed up with the continuous poking and pushed the spear away. "Stop it!"

The poking must've done something though, as the boy woke up only seconds after katara pushed the spear away. Matthew put his hand in front of Sokka, an automatic gesture of protection. The child's eyes were big and gray. In a hoarse whisper, he said,

"I need to ask you something."

"What?" Katara asked.

"Please, come closer." He asked. Matthew frowned and knelt beside Katara, ready to hold down the stranger if necessary.

"What is it?" Katara asked, unaware of Matthew's actions.

"Will you go penguin sledding with me?"

Matthew was taken aback by the strange question, and so was Katara. "Uh, sure? I guess."

The boy lifted himself to his feet, but not with his hands. He floated a little before standing. Matthew blinked.

"What's going on here?" The boy asked, not caring about gravity's lack of control over him. Sokka, however, was.

"You tell us! How'd you get in the ice? And how come you aren't frozen?" Sokka asked. All valid questions, Matthew agreed.

"I'm not sure?" The boy said uncaringly, before scrambling up the side of the ice faster than he could and sliding inside. His words were jumbled from inside. Matthew walked along the edge, to where the wall of ice was no more. The boy was playing with a white, furry, buffalo looking animal bigger than a train car. It licked him, and the boy laughed.

Sokka was the first to break the silence. "What is that thing?"

The boy smiled, still petting the massive animal. "This is Appa, my flying bison." A bison? Matthew had seen plenty of bison growing up and that wasn't one. It had six legs, was abnormally large, and the coloring was all wrong. Not to mention the tail being the size of a king-sized mattress.

"Right," Sokka said skeptically. "This is Katara, my flying sister, and Matthew, the flying foreigner."

Appa sneezed, sending a huge ball of snot straight onto Sokka. It splattered on impact, covering the boy into the mucus. Matthew was shocked and disgusted.

"Don't worry, it'll wash out." The boy assured. Katara blanched. Matthew immediately made a mental note to volunteer for making dinner so he wouldn't have to wash that.

"So...do you guys live around here? You said that guy," he pointed at Matthew, "was a foreigner."

"Don't answer that!" Sokka hissed, pointing his spear at the boy once more. "Did you see that light that he made? He was probably trying to signal the Fire Navy."

At least Sokka was being cautious, but that accusation was a little much.

"Oh, I'm sure that's what he was trying to do. You can tell be the evil look in his eye." Katara rolled her eyes. "The paranoid one is my brother, Sokka. You never told us your name."

He smiled. "I'm ah-ah-ah-achoo!" He sneezed so hard that the snow flew up and he went flying. Matthew was stunned once more. The boy flew back down, slid down the ice, and came back to his original spot.

"I'm Aang."

"You just sneezed and flew 10 feet in the air!" Sokka protested.

"Really? Felt higher than that." Aang looked up at the sky. Matthew was confused. Was sneezing that high normal in this world? Probably not, gauging by Sokka's earlier question.

"You're an Airbender!" Katara exclaimed, coming to the conclusion much faster than he did.

"Sure am!" Aang verified with a smile.

"Giant light beams, flying bison, Airbenders, I think I got Midnight-Sun madness. Come on Matthew, let's go back home where things are normal." He grabbed Matthew's hand and walked off, only to see they were near no ice. Matthew sighed and readjusted his glasses. He was freezing from his swim, and being confused wasn't helping.

After bickering between the siblings, it was agreed that Aand would fly them back to the village. It was apparent that Katara was excited and Sokka was reluctant, but Matthew kept his feelings hidden beneath a complacent smile. He was suspicious of the kid, in truth. Airbenders were known to be extinct, even myths. To have one show up out of the blue was highly unlikely. He didn't think it went as far as Sokka accused, with the Fire Navy, but something was up.

He gripped a hunting knife in his pocket.

He'd protect these kids, no matter what. He didn't like violence, but when push comes to shove, Matthew would rather be the one pushing.

-o-

The ride back home was rather uneventful. Matthew and Sokka sat next to each other, Sokka's body heat helping warm Matthew. Katara and Aang chatted, making Matthew feel uneasy. She was getting to close for comfort, but Matthew couldn't do anything because Aang exhibited no suspicious traits so far.

They eventually reached the village, after dinner time. Sokka and Katara hefted Aang into the guest tent and put him in a sleeping bag. Matthew explained the day's events to Kanna before going to sit by the fire and warm his core. The siblings weren't seen for the rest of the night, either asleep or checking on Aang. Matthew felt lonely, but only a little. Maybe he was being paranoid. Maybe Aang was a normal boy.

But years of experience told him that a good amount of caution was healthier than no caution at all. He went to bed with thoughts of the day collecting in his mind.

-o-

The next morning, Matthew made breakfast while Katara gave Aang a tour of the village. He'd pulled over Sokka in private and expressed his concerns but even the teen boy was having his doubts about his earlier statements.

"Look, Matthew, I know it's weird, but hey, it was the same thing when you first were found. You and Aang are more alike than you think. Found in the ice, friendly at first, mysterious. He's a lot more annoying, but I don't think he's bad." It sounded more like Sokka was trying to tell himself that more than Matthew. Matthew gave up and resigned himself to helping Sokka with training the young boys.

A few potty breaks later, Matthew and Sokka were doing workouts with the children. Matthew wished he was with Al, the brother who was always too optimistic about everything. The thoughts about Aang were getting worse and worse, and so were his suspicions. Just...something didn't add up.

"Hey, have you seen Aang? He's been gone all morning."

What? Matthew looked up from his plank.

Aang walked out of Sokka's watchtower, smiling. he said something funny, as the children laughed. Sokka frowned.

"Katara, get him out of here. This lesson is for warriors only."

Katara smirked. "Well,_ your_ warriors are playing with Aang right now."

Sokka growled and chased the kids back to where Matthew was. "Stop! Stop it! We don't have time for fun and games with the war going on!"

Matthew stood and counted at the boys did jumping jacks. Aang zoomed past and ran towards a penguin, chased by Katara. Sokka walked up to Matthew, exasperated. "Let's just get today over with."

He and Matthew taught the kids how to kick, but they were all clumsy in their thick coats and small limbs.

"No, like this. You need to spin your leg," Matthew instructed, showing off a roundhouse kick, Al's favorite.

"Like this?" A boy spun like a ballerina, fell on his butt, and giggled uncontrollably.

"No," he smiled, "Like this." He started the kick again when a flare flew straight into the sky and exploded. Matthew stopped what he was doing and dropped the smile.

"Someone's in danger. Everyone, get inside your tent! I'm going out!"

He ran as fast as he could out of the village and towards the flare. What's Aang done? Why was there a flare? He ran at inhuman speed until he saw Aang carrying Katara in the distance. He slowed to a normal run and approached them.

"What happened?" He asked, breathing hard.

"We were on the old Fire Navy ship and Aang triggered a booby trap, that's all," Katara assured as Aang dropped her.

"Are either of you hurt?"

"No, we're fine," Katara confirmed.

Matthew sighed. Just shenanigans. He should've known. "Come on then, better tell the village. They think something bad happened."

"Really?" Katara looked shocked. "Oh, La."

They walked together in silence. Back near the village entrance, all of the townspeople were gathered.

"Mattie's back!" A kid cried, and they ran and hugged him. The parents were all giving Aang disapproving glares.

Sokka stepped forward, pointing a gloved hand at Aang. "I knew it! You signaled the Fire Navy with that flare! You're leading them straight to us, aren't you?"

"Aang didn't do anything! It was an accident!" Katara pleaded. Aang agreed and explained about the ship. Kanna looked furious.

"Katara, you shouldn't have gone on that ship. Now we could all be in danger."

Aang looked down. "Don't blame Katara. It's my fault."

"Aha! The traitor confesses! Warriors, away from the enemy! The bald foreigner is banished from our village!" Sokka commanded.

Matthew watched as the kids left his side. He walked over to Sokka's side.

"Aang is not our enemy! Don't you see? Aang is just like Matthew, and Matthew's fine. Why can't you trust him?"

Matthew sighed. "Katara, we just don't know enough."

"What makes you say that? You weren't any less weird when we found you! If you banish Aang, then I banish Matthew!"

"Gran-Gran, she can't do that!" Sokka cried.

"I agree with Sokka. You knew going on that ship was forbidden. It's best if the Airbender leaves."

Katara scowled. "Fine, then all benders are banished! Come on Aang let's go." She harshly grabbed Matthew's arm and dragged him near the Bison. Matthew tried to resist, but her grip was tight as iron and he didn't want to hurt her.

"Where are you even going?" Sokka yelled.

"To find a master Waterbender. Aang is taking me and Matthew to the North Pole, where we'll be appreciated!"

"Katara, I don't want to come between you and your family. I'll leave." Aand said with a sad smile.

"So, you're leaving the South Pole? This is goodbye?"

He nodded, exchanged a few words, and got onto his bison.

"It was nice meeting you all." He sighed as Appa walked away, taking his mysterious master with him.

Kanna tried to reason with Katara, but all she got was angry shouting. Matthew sighed and stared at the sea. He knew Aang would've caused trouble. He just hadn't expected this.

"Okay! Ready our defenses! The Fire Nation could be on our shores at any moment! You too, Matthew! Come on!" Sokka grabbed Matthew's hand and dragged him into their tent, where he applied war paint to Matthew's face and his own.

"Are you ready?" Matthew asked.

"Of course I am. Dad trusted you and me to protect everyone, so that's what we'll do. Come on!" He ran out of the tent, but Matthew stayed behind and stared at his gloved hands. Was he really ready to fight again? The Water Tribe would be massacred in a war without him, but he would be pegged as a threat the second they saw him fight.

He hoped this wasn't a real threat.

But as a ship much bigger than Appa appeared on the horizon, his hope died in his mouth, replaced by solemn determination.

He would protect these people until he died.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Before I start, I want to give a shout out to the people who really made my day. **_

_**First is Fetan Iz from who gave this story its first follow, which you have no idea how happy that made me feel.**_

_**Next is Sakuragane_San from Ao3 and . Their comment was lovely and really full of meaning to me. It made me only more eager to continue writing, plus the follow was greatly appreciated!  
**_

_**Then is Nonnie from Ao3. They gave me such lovely compliments! I love how they broke down my chapter and said their favorite line. I'm glad they enjoyed every part of it. **_

_**Matthew W. Kirkland from gave a sweet and simple phrase that just radiated simple, sweet joy. Even the shortest phrases mean so much.**_

_**And lastly, is anon from who commented a very good question. They are nations in this story, they just don't really regard it as a pressing thing to reveal. Explore your surroundings before you let your surroundings explore you if that makes sense.**_

_**That's all, but I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**_

Msperfectsheep

* * *

Book 1: Fire Chapter 3

Alfred's POV

He was dreaming. He knew that much, but everything else was uncertain. He was in a dark void dotted with stars, but he knew it wasn't space. It didn't feel like space. And his body was transparent, so reality was out. But normally his dreams weren't like this. He floated around boredly, but nothing eventful happened.

"Hello?" He called.

Nothing.

He frowned and searched around. "Am I supposed to look for something...or?"

There was a flash, and Alfred was blinded. When his vision cleared, he was standing in the snow. Or, transparent him was. He was practically a ghost.

He saw two children exclaiming in the same language Rika spoke as they pulled a large net out of the icy water nearby. Upon further inspection, this place looked like the Arctic, or maybe even Antarctica. The kids were possibly Inuit, but their eye shape and color was off. And their language wasn't Inuit. The male one, maybe 14 at oldest, pulled on the net as hard as he could, but the end wouldn't come out. He peeked over the edge and screamed, backing away. The girl beside him did the same, but instead of screaming she started making excited noises.

Alfred decided that such a reaction was a good enough reason to go see what was dragging the net down. He tentatively put his foot on the water, and it didn't go through. He stood on the water, looking down into the depths. What he saw was horrifying.

A complete body, frozen in ice. He fell back onto the ice and scrambled back, heart racing. He understood the boy's reaction completely.

The girl, however, was taking off her gloves.

"What are you doing?" Alfred asked, but they didn't hear him. The girl waved her hands in the air slowly, like she was dancing. The water in front of her churned. The boy moved back as the water churned more and more. She yelled something at the boy and he grabbed the net and pulled. She kept waving her arms, and the net slowly pulled out.

The block of ice encasing the body was dragged onto the shore. Alfred watched, slowly getting closer. He was a ghost, so that meant that if the body was a zombie, he couldn't be hurt. Nothing to be afraid of.

The boy handed the girl a metal boomerang-shaped weapon with a handle and she hacked away at the ice, breaking it off chunk by chunk and getting closer the flesh of the body.

Once the body was as clean as it could be without destroying any of the original tissue or clothes, the two kids hefted it and walked off with it like this was normal. Alfred was confused, mortified, and disgusted.

But then something about the body caught his eye. He hadn't been paying much attention to it before, but he saw a familiar red maple leaf on one of the sleeves of the body's jacket. He ran up to the kids and looked at the body.

He nearly had a heart attack. It was Mattie. He tried to check Mattie's pulse, but his hand went straight through his brother's neck. Oh god, did Mattie actually die?

He wanted to walk further, see what happened to his brother, but he could feel himself being pulled back. He tried running, but it only made the pulling worse. He was dragged into the ocean and encased in layers of darkness. Next thing he knew, he was being kicked awake.

He gasped, waking. His eyes flew open to stare at a shadowed figure in the doorway. Alfred squinted, the light from outside too much for his sensitive eyes after so many hours in the dark. He groped around for his glasses and thankfully found them behind one of the barrels. He slipped them on and looked at his attacker once more.

* * *

It was a bulky man, tall and heavyset, with a long black beard. He growled something in the native language, smiling maliciously at Alfred while speaking. His hand launched out and wrapped its meaty digits around Alfred's exposed arm. He hefted the blonde high enough that Alfred had to stand before punching Alfred in the gut.

Alfred gasped as the wind left his lungs. The man put him in a choke hold and brought him out of the room, dragging the American down metal halls. He muttered more in the language, but Al could tell his mutterings weren't directed towards him.

The man led them up a staircase and onto the deck, where the sun was shining. This light was much harsher on Al's eyes than the light from downstairs, and he had to wait minutes before floaters left his vision. He was tossed on the ground and forced to prostrate himself in front of someone.

Al could very well guess who he was being forced to bow before.

He lifted his head after a while, and sure enough, it was Mr. Arson himself. The Prince stood tall, proud and regal. And if it weren't for Al's experience with the brat, he would've actually thought him to be reputable. He spoke, not even looking down to acknowledge Alfred.

**"That's enough Wei Da. You may leave."**

Alfred felt the hand release from his neck. He dared to sit up, staring at the Prince directly. The Prince made no move to do the same. After a moment, Alfred spoke.

**"Are you going to look at your own guest or not?"**

There it was. The Prince's striking gold eyes, scarily similar to Rika's, turned on Al. The mask of calm he'd been wearing fell off and shattered, replaced by a deep scowl.

**"How dare you spe-"**

**"Prince Zuko, I will deal with this." **An old, short, potbellied man playing some sort of game behind the Prince spoke. His voice was calming, but dangerous.

The Prince's face relaxed a tiny bit, but the only reason why was because that anger was replaced by obedience and respect. He stormed off into the main cabin on deck.

The old man patted the wood beside him. **"Come. Do you play Juan Tie?"** Alfred blinked, surprised by the man's kindness. He was expecting at least a kick for stowing away. Then again, he did have that lovely wake-up call. He sat next to the old man, who poured him a cup of tea.

The American held down a sigh. What with people liking tea? The only good tea was Sweet Tea, and even then, it was tea. But, Alfred decided, this man was being nice. He had to play nice.

**"No, I've never heard of it." **

The old man looked surprised, but it was a pleasant surprise from the looks of it. He explained the rules of the game, all while he and Alfred sipped hot tea. No talk of stowaways, or who he was, or about Alfred. Just about the game.

It was a strange game that reminded him a bit of Rummikub and Solitaire mixed together.

**"Why 4 elements?"** He asked. **"Fire, Water, Earth, and Air? Things are made of much more than that."**

The old man chuckled, placing a fire tile of the air tile from earlier. **"Fire represents the breath. What gives you life, and what can take it away. Water is the blood, moving and flowing, connecting you to family and friends. Earth is the body, giving stability and substance. And Air is the spirit, connecting you to your past lives and soul."**

**"Oh. Hey, one more question." **He said, placing down a water tile on earth. **"Why can the Prince make fire out of nothing?"**

**"It isn't nothing. It's energy converted into power. People of my nation are sometimes born with an affinity for it. I'm no exception."**

**"Hold up." **Alfred placed his hands on the table. **"You mean to tell me you're born being able to shoot fire out of your body?"**

The man nodded and held out his hand. A flame sparked to life and danced across the man's palm, but did not burn him. **"Firebending is a sacred art, sadly misused by many. However, this knowledge is anything but secret. I'm curious as to why you don't know anything regarding the elements. Where are you from?"**

Al didn't know what to say, so he came up with the oldest excuse in the book. **"I don't know. I can't remember. I just washed ashore one day, and I couldn't even speak the common language."**

The old man's eyes gleamed. **"Fascinating. Yet you know High Court. Quite interesting. What did you say your name was again?"**

**"My name is Alfred."**

**"I am Iroh. A pleasure to meet you, Alfred."** He bowed his head in respect. **"May I ask, why did you choose to come with us?"**

Alfred shrugged.** "Wanted to get off that stupid island anyways. Didn't care how."** He lied. In truth, he didn't mind his days on the island.

**"So you took the first opportunity, without knowing who we even were?"**

He laughed. **"Dumb, wasn't it? I wasn't really thinking back then." **

**"Even the smartest scholars have a lapse in thought. Fate guided you on this path."**

Alfred shrugged, draining the last of the tea. **"I guess."**

Iroh smiled pleasantly. **"I will talk to my nephew about your accommodations. For now you can sleep in the cabin boy's hammock. The last one quit, so there will be no squabble."**

Alfred readjusted his glasses. **"Thanks again. The storeroom was not great on my neck."**

Iroh laughed. **"I can't say the hammock will be much better. Come, let us go eat."**

The old man guided Alfred down under the deck, leaving a half-finished game sitting on the deck.

Alfred couldn't sleep. Long after the sun faded beneath the horizon, Al found himself sitting on a barrel, watching the moon reflect off of the water. The hammock and Iroh reminded him of the first time he'd been on the ship, back when Arthur insisted on bringing him to see the British King.

Alfred smirked as he thought of when he chucked a handful of manure at Arthur and ran into the woods, giggling. Arthur's angry shouts. Him being chased down and shoved into very tight and unnaturally fancy clothes.

He'd been so young back then, but already so independent. It'd been painful, telling Arthur that he was his own person now, but it'd been the right choice. And now they were friends again, as equals.

**"Why are you awake?"**

Alfred turned and saw the scar-faced Prince standing near the observation deck's entrance, dressed in loose red robes.

Alfred turned his head back to the ocean. **"I couldn't sleep."**

The Prince walked up to his side and joined him in staring at the moon. A silence passed between them.

**"What do you like to do?" **He asked. It took Al a moment to register who the question was directed at.

**"Me? Oh, I like to do a lot of things. Play football, throw awesome barbeques, that sort of thing. You?"**

**"I train."**

Alfred raised an eyebrow. **"In what? What for?"**

The Prince sat on a barrel next to Alfred's. **"I think I know the answer already, but I'll ask it anyway. Have you never heard of the Fire Nation?"**

**"Nope."**

**"Firebending?"**

**"Your uncle sorta explained it to me, but before that, no."**

**"The Hundred Years War?"**

It was Alfred's turn to look confused. **"Dude, you mean that war between France and England? What's that got to do with this?"**

**"What's France and England? Two Earth Kingdom cities? I'm talking about the Fire Nation's global conquest."**

This kid, a prince, didn't know France and England? Alfred felt uneasy. An image of the kid's strange map flashed in his mind, and then Rika speaking the native language the first time they met. An inkling of thought formulated in his mind, but it was too strange to be true.

Zuko noticed Al's silence and continued.** "Anyways, since you practically know nothing important, I guess I'll pass the time telling you."**

And so the Prince sat and explained the War, his powers, even Firebending. Al sat and listened to the boy's tale, his blue eyes growing larger from disbelief by the minute.

**"Does that make sense?"**

It didn't. It just didn't. Logic didn't agree with even the idea of Air Nomads, unbreakable walls of earth, Sozin's comet. But the Prince treated it like this was the simplest thing ever. A truth he knew by heart. Alfred's head spun.

**"Can you teach me Firebending?"**

The prince smirked. **"You can't just learn Firebending. You're born with it. You train it, nurture it, strengthen it. Plus, you don't look Fire Nation. Your eye color looks like Water Tribe, but your skin is almost Earth Kingdom. And your hair color makes no sense. Is it albinism? A curse?"**

Alfred should've been taken aback, but after all the strangeness he'd just heard, he just took the question with a sigh. **"Family trait, I'd think. But...I was found in the Fire Nation. Doesn't that mean I may be a Firebender?"**

Zuko stared at the moon, a mere crescent in the dark sky. He didn't speak for a while.

**"What is it like, forgetting everything about your past?"**

Alfred dug his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. He did forget who he was at one point in his life, back when he was split. His mind forced him to forget who he was to protect him from the stress. When he remembered again, he'd been relieved and horrified at the same time.

**"Scary. I knew my name, and where I was from. I knew how to speak, but not the right language. It's terrifying, thinking that you'll meet someone who was once close to you and treat them like a stranger. Or to betray your old friends and family."**

The teen looked at Alfred strangely. In the moonlight, Alfred couldn't really tell what the boy's expression was.

**"I'm sorry."** He said simply, sliding off the barrel and heading to his quarters.

Alfred watched him close the door. He smiled, just a little. "_Thank you_." He whispered.

* * *

The relationship between the Prince and Al was unusual, with the teen being formal and even a bit rude in the day but open at night. Al resigned to his work as a personal assistant of Iroh's, organizing scrolls and stamping documents while the elderly man drank tea. Zuko was still the angry ball of spitfire Alfred knew, shouting unreasonable demands and getting mad at the most unreasonable things.

If Al had a nickel for every time he wanted to tease Zuko, he'd be rich. In America at least. As far as he knew, people here didn't even understand the concept of nickels.

He was sitting on his knees in one of the rooms below deck, organizing a chest of old delicate scrolls by the color of the edging. Reds were of utmost importance, then greens, blues, and lastly, oranges. The number of oranges was scarce, with almost all the ones provided having some sort of char or burnt edge.

Al wondered why they were in such terrible condition, but it wasn't his place to question anything. Not publicly at least. If they got mad at him, he'd be thrown into the sea and probably drown, which he knew was not going to be pleasant.

So he sorted in the little hot room, left to his own thoughts in the suffocating silence. Eventually, he couldn't bear it. He started humming. He didn't realize what song it was until he started saying the lyrics.

"Will you still feed me, will you still need me, when I'm 64." Paul's song. It was a simple sweet song he hadn't heard in a while, so singing it was nice, even if he messed up the lyrics here and there.

He was caught up in remembering if the names of the grandkids in the song were Sally, Michael, and Dave, or Vera, Chuck, and Dave when the metal door creaked open. Prince Fireface himself.

"**What an honor it is to see you again**," Alfred said dryly. The Prince scowled.

"**Did you not hear the signal?**"

Nope, not to his knowledge. "**I may have, I might have not.**"

The teen's scowl deepened, something Al figured he was a prodigy at. Scowling was his specialty. "**You're hopeless. We found the Avatar. Go man the deck.**"

Al's glasses slipped off his nose and clattered on the desktop. The Avatar? The man, the myth, the legend? Prince Idiot had been the one to find him?

Al grabbed his glasses and stood. "Fine." He bowed stiffly to the teen, who left with an unsatisfied huff.

Al gently tucked the scrolls away and locked the cabin before climbing onboard. If what he heard about the Avatar was true, he definitely wouldn't go down with a fight.

In truth, neither would Al.

He ran to the armory and shoved on a helmet and body armor, and while he technically was in a rush, he was careful to secure all the straps. The extra protection was bulky and heavy, but Al, again, was very against the idea of dying.

He left the armory and climbed to the deck just in time to see them heading straight for a village made of pure snow. He winced and grabbed onto the railing at the ship cut through the ice, heading straight for the town. He saw little blue-clad figures running around in the camp. Finally, clothes that weren't red, black, or gold.

The ship released a cloud of hot air that condensed instantly when it met the frigid air on the new environment. The steam cleared fairly quickly, giving Alfred a good view on the invasion. Well, not invasion, because they weren't there to kill or plunder the village. They were just there to arrest a century-old magic man.

Prince Zuko, decked out in his edgelord armor, marched down the oversized metal gangplank into the village. Two boys, one clad in blue and the other in black, and both with facial war paint, stood at the end, glaring. The rest of the villagers stared. It was an even smaller population than Al thought, there being less than 20 people in total.

The one in black charged at Zuko, was instantly disarmed, and thrown to the side. The blue one watched cautiously, spear in hand. Zuko approached the natives.

"Where are you hiding him?" He asked, inspecting the faces of every person. He grabbed the village's oldest member and turned her towards her own people. "He'd be about this old, master of all four elements?"

Nothing but blank and fearful faces. Zuko tossed the elder back to her people before releasing an arc of fire.

"I know you're hiding him!"

The boy in black unburied himself and charged at Zuko and missed, falling. The blue-clad boy still watched cautiously. His face was a mask.

The boy in black and Zuko sparred, fire and a boomerang-like weapon dancing dangerously. Al noticed the blue-clad boy edging away from the conflict, but the fight was so interesting he couldn't keep his eyes off of it for long. The boomerang hit Zuko on the head, and Al winced immediately in sympathy. He knew that pain all too well.

Suddenly, a boy in orange and yellow slid under Zuko, wielding a staff. Zuko flew back and the staffed-boy made a u-turn to face Zuko once more. The staffed boy said something to the boy in black before standing up and facing Zuko. The guards made a ring around the two, a classic stance he'd seen practicing all day long.

The boy slammed his staff into the ground, making walls of snow fly up and cover the guards. Zuko stepped back, skin steaming.

"Looking for me?" The boy asked.

"You're the Airbender? You're the Avatar?" Zuko asked, incredulous. The boys circled each other, ready for battle. Fire shots were deflected by staff. Circling and banter. The Airbender started to look uncertain.

"If I promise to go with you, will you promise to leave them alone?"

Zuko unfolded from his fighting stance and simply nodded. The guards grabbed the boy harshly and dragged him into the ship, leaving the villagers to stare fearfully at the metal behemoth on which Alfred stood. The ship closed up, and they departed without a single casualty.

* * *

Matthew's POV

He clung to the side of the ship, holding on for dear life. He could sense the water churning beneath his feet as he dangled from the slick metal side of the ship, holding on with only a few chunks of ice he'd created. It was like rock climbing but with a lot more water involved and fewer niches.

While he clung on, the icy wind tore at his skin. His gloved hands gripped the icy nubs. Matthew hoped, prayed even, that they would hold long enough. His Waterbending was sub-par at best, with Katara exceeding him in everything but ice manipulation.

What was he even doing here? He was supposed to protect the villagers. But something about this ship...it drew him in. Was it because it mimicked warships he was used to? Or was it something else?

So here he was, riding on the side of a ship, no idea what he'd done or where he was going.

All in all, not too bad of a day.

* * *

Unknown POV

When he'd first woken up, he'd found he was alone.

The man had been lying flat on his back, facing an endless blue sky. Not a cloud was in sight, at least, not where he was. The wind ruffled his hair and clothes. Was this a dream or reality? He didn't really know. It seemed too peaceful to be a reality, but too silent to be a dream.

He sat up and looked around. He was on a patch of lush thick grass facing a sea of clouds. He must be at a really high elevation to be above the clouds, but it didn't feel that high. He turned, and above him, perched on a hill surrounded by rocked and rubble, was an old temple.

The man picked his way up the rocky slope, each footstep grounded and firm. The consistent gentle breeze made his skin cool, but nowhere near uncomfortably cold. As he reached the summit, the temple was easier to pick apart.

It looked Eastern, Buddhist even. The building itself was worse for wear when first expected, scorch marks and cracks much more prominent than from afar. He peeked his head inside.

"Hallo?"

His voice echoed a bit, but no response. He continued inside. "Halllooooooo?"

More echoes. He smirked. "Yodlee hee hoo!"

His unprofessional yodel traveled through the halls. He continued to call out things as he walked, saying everything from ridiculous phrases to genuine questions.

But as he continued on, he started to realize he was alone.

Especially when he found the skeletons.

* * *

Alfred's POV

This sucked balls. Why was he on prisoner guard duty? He was an organizer for a reason, not a guard. Guarding was, like, the lamest job ever. And guarding a kid too? He could already see himself dying of boredom.

So here he was, marching a bald tattooed 6th grader down the halls.

The kid started talking, something Al expected, to be honest. "So, I bet you're never fought an Airbender before. I bet I can take you both with my hands tied behind my back."

"Hey, can you be quiet?" Al asked. He voice was muffled behind the mask.

Suddenly, as his coworker started to slide the key into the door, the kid inhaled and breathed out, sending himself flying into Alfred. The impact knocked the helmet off, revealing his blonde hair, blue eyes, and glasses. Aang stared.

"Matthew?"

Al's eyes widened in shock. He knew a guy named Matthew that looked like him? It had to be his brother. And that meant...

Great, he had to either betray Mattie's friend or the Fire Nation. Screw it, Mattie was more important. Plus, this kid was supposed to be like, basically a superhero. He nodded.

The kid grabbed his arm and ran, dragging Al behind him with his hands still tied. Damn, he was good.

They rounded a corner, where three guards stood. Al took control of the situation.

"Just got him. Bring him to Zuko." He spoke carefully. The soldiers didn't know high court, and he had to justify being there. Just for added measure, he carried the Avatar. The soldiers let them pass.

They climbed a ladder.

"Where are we going?" He asked the boy.

"I'm getting my staff!" He answered earnestly.

They passed another Firebender, heading towards the storerooms and quarters. Alfred led him past all the unimportant rooms, knowing the staff wouldn't be there. He peeked inside Zuko's room, where the Prince was waiting on the bed.

"**The Avatar's escaped. I'm sure he'll come here for his staff**." Zuko announced.

The boy untied his hands and slipped into the room. He grabbed Alfred and put him in a chokehold. Al could feel the hold was light.

"Give me my staff or I'll freeze this soldier."

Zuko scowled. "**Alfred, is he serious**?"

"**It's bad. I can barely breathe**." He choked out, adding gasps for flair. This better be worth it, otherwise, he was betraying his only allies. Zuko's scowl, per usual, deepened. He threw the staff at the boy in disgust.

"Go."

The boy scooped up his staff carefully and backed out of the room, still holding Alfred.

"Meet me on the deck. We'll jump ship." He whispered. Al didn't understand half of the phrase, but he did understand "deck" and that was all he needed. The kid kicked him in the stomach, launching himself down the hall. Zuko raced past, furious. Al scrambled to his feet and ran back the way they came, weaving and dodging through the halls. This was insane.

He prayed to every god he'd ever heard of that this would work.

* * *

Matthew's POV

Slowly but surely, Matthew climbed up the slippery metal hull. He carefully lead a thin strip of water from the sea through the air and to the hull, where he froze it into chunks. He climbed cautiously, ensuring each of his footholds were stable before putting his weight on the icy blocks. Something seemed to be going on onboard, as he could hear shouting. He climbed faster, but a sudden blast of snowy wind stopped him. He wiped the sleet off of his face, rubbing off the war paint in the process.

Back to climbing. He finally made it to the railing, where he slid over the edge. No one was on the deck. He ran down into the hull, going beneath the deck. Aang had to be down there. He tried looking in every room, but each was empty or filled with soldiers. He was going to open the last door in this particular hallway when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He froze.

"**Alfred, what are you doing?**"

Alfred? He wasn't Alfred.

But his brother was.

He stayed turned away, trying to hide his face. He was sure remnants of the war paint were still there. He answered calmly in Japanese, what he was addressed in, trying his best to imitate his brother's voice.

"**Hey! I'm just looking around for something. I lost it in the confusion.**"

The person behind him, presumably a man by his voice, chuckled.

"**Even during lockdown you manage to make me laugh. You can continue, just return to the study when you're done.**"

Matthew nodded. "**Thanks, dude!**" He even managed to form a laugh similar to Alfred's, which seemed to satisfy the mystery man.

What in the world did Alfred get into?

Once he was sure the man was gone, Matthew slipped down the hall. He wasn't sure what he was doing exactly, but if both Aang and Al were on this ship, he was going to find them.

He stripped off his coat and threw it aside. The ship was too hot. He tied up his hair with a strip of leather cord, a trick he learned from Carlos when he visited Cuba. More mobility and better ventilation.

Now there was the tricky part. Finding them.

He slipped from corridor to corridor, going deeper and deeper into the vessel. When he reached the bottom, he figured he'd gone the wrong way.

They must be somewhere else. He turned and went the way he came from.

Up ladders and through halls he traveled, his mind focused on one objective. Tunnel vision, some called it. He preferred to call it determination.

It'd been a year since he'd seen a person that looked anywhere near him, or spoke English, or knew him for who he was. Who could play hockey and make maple syrup popsicles in the snow. Or just even talk about things like jokes only they understood.

Matthew realized how lonely he was.

And now, he had the chance to fix it. No way in hell he was giving it up.

* * *

Alfred's POV

He was on the main deck, waiting for tattooed Calliou to show his face. Guards surrounded him, all with the same expressionless masks. God did he hate the masks.

He squinted as he saw something leap off the top and spread its wings. It was the avatar and his glider.

He ran towards the avatar like a wide receiver going for the football, arms out. The crew cheered.

They didn't know what he was doing.

Zuko leaped off the edge trying to catch the avatar as well, but he missed. He fell directly on top of Alfred, flattening him.

The avatar didn't even see. He flew off, going in the opposite way of the ship. Zuko climbed off of Alfred.

"After him!"

The guards scrambled for weapons, setting up canons and sending blasts of fire. The avatar avoided every shot swiftly, but Al could tell he was panicking.

"We almost have him! Fire!"

They launched a fiery ball of flames at the Avatar. He deflected it with air, but the force itself was enough to make him fall. He plummeted to the deck.

And while he was falling, instead of obeying gravity, his eyes glowed. His face contorted into rage. The soldiers, Al included, backed up as his arms moved. The ship started to rock back and forth. Water sloshed at the sides.

The avatar landed and lead a stream of water onboard. It circled around him, spinning faster and faster. The water then shot out, solidifying into icy spears that impaled many of the shoulders in the arms or legs.

None hit him though.

Al stared grimly at the damage done. A child was forced to fight, and so he did. He couldn't blame the avatar.

The avatar's eyes stopped glowing, and he collapsed. Al realized the whole ship wasn't moving. It was frozen in ice. Zuko was trapped inside the ship, ice blocking the exit. Al carefully walked on the ice to the avatar, who was unconscious and felt his neck.

There was a steady pulse, so at least he was alive. Al was panicking. What should he do?

There was a scary moment where nothing happened. Luckily, it was broken it the most unusual way.

A flying mammoth thing crashed the party.

* * *

Matthew's POV

Matthew finally made it to the deck's opening only to find it was covered in a thin layer of ice. At least he could deal with that. He concentrated, waiting to feel that ticklish tugging in his gut. He caught it and rode it like he imagined a surfer was, bending the tugging to his will.

He first wrapped his control around the ice around the entrance and slowly released the pressure between the molecules, allowing them to move faster. The ice started to melt, turning to water. He continued this process, concentrating on not moving too quickly. The last thing he wanted was to lose focus and refreeze thew water, an action he did too often. Eventually, it all melted, where he then proceeded to carefully guide it behind him and let it refreeze.

He climbed out of the hull, glad to be free.

And then his eyes locked onto the thing he came here for in the first place. Aang. A fire nation soldier was cradling the Avatar in their arms, whispering something. Matthew cautiously slid across the ice, making sure to stay as silent as possible. That, at least, was much easier than melting ice. He got behind the soldier, ready to strike, when both he and the soldier noticed the same thing.

Katara and Sokka were riding Appa right at them.

Matthew backed up, surprised. The soldier tensed, on guard. A small white flame danced across their fingers. Right by Aang's face. Matthew guided the siblings right towards the ship, pointing at the solider, hoping they'd get his message the soldier was armed and dangerous.

They didn't. They landed right behind the soldier.

"Matthew, get Aang and get on! We don't have much time!" Katara yelled.

The soldier's face whipped around. **"**_Mattie_**?"**

He spoke English. The soldier spoke English. And underneath that helmet was his brother. Alfred.

Matthew felt overwhelmed. He hadn't seen his brother in almost a year, and now, here he was, still with the same shit-eating grin as always. The same glasses and blonde hair. The white flame that was on his fingertips was there no more, and Matthew second-guessed whether or not it was even real in the first place.

Sokka didn't notice Al at all. Of course he wouldn't, why should he?

"Matt? Did you hear her? Get him before Prince Asshat show his ugly mug!"

Matt shook his head. He could hear Katara jump off of the bison and run over to him. "Are you alright?" She asked, shaking his shoulders.

Matthew could only nod. He shakily stood and walked, almost trance-like, towards Alfred.

"_Hey Al, good to see you, eh?_"

The brother stared for a moment before hugging Matthew. Matthew quickly wrapped his hands around Al.

"_Don't ever scare me like that again._"

Al laughed his laugh. "_Only if you give up hockey._"

"_Never._"

"_Then same for me. God, its been too long._"

"_It really has, huh_?"

They got lost in idle chatter, the world behind them dissolving away. They were reunited.

"Matthew! Look out!"

Matthew only had the chance to look behind him before the world went dark, and he knew no more.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note

_Hello everyone! Thank you guys so much for all your support! The amount of follows, kudos, and reviews I've gotten over the past week__s __is insane. I read every single one, so please, don't be afraid to tell me your thoughts! This is more than I've ever gotten writing, which is really encouraging._

_I'm gonna try to release a new chapter every weekend, but if I don't, please know its probably school. This one is late since I am heading to California for a vacation and couldn't write for a while. Sorry for the late release!_

_I'm currently seeking a beta reader, so if you're interested, please email me at those2peeps or dm me. _

_A really nice person who's a friend of a friend has been giving me really good insight on characterization. Thank you Astral! You guys have helped a lot._

_The last bit of personal news is __a friend __opened an RP on Discord based on this, with you being able to pick between canon and oc if you desire. I'd love if you joined! PM me for the server link!_

_Msperfectsheep_

_Brief mentions of _**_very_**_ brutal historical massacres and events as well as other trigger-inducing activities. Read at your own discretion._

* * *

Matthew's POV

It was the talking that woke him. He sat up groggily, his head hurting so bad he could hardly see. His whole body ached. It felt like he died, but he could tell that he hadn't. Not this time.

"Oh look, he's awake." He heard Sokka to the left of him and saw a vaguely Sokka-colored blob.

"Where're my glasses?" He asked, realizing why his vision was so blurry.

He felt a gloved hand put the metal frame in his hand. "Here you go. How do you feel?" It was Katara's voice now.

He slipped on the glasses, and the world became clear once more. "Like I fell into an icy rapid in winter." He replied dryly, not in the mood for his usual politeness. He felt like being grouchy.

"Well, that's better than I thought. Here, have some water." Katara handed him a waterskin, which he drank from gratefully. The water felt so fresh compared to the air. The group fell silent as he sipped, the two watertribe siblings staring at him while Aang piloted Appa.

Where was Al?

This realization hit him, and he looked behind himself unconsciously, like he suspected to find his brother riding on Appa's tail. No Alfred.

"You don't remember, do you?" Katara figured.

"Of course he doesn't Katara. He was unconscious." Sokka agreed. Katara rolled her eyes, annoyed.

"I got that, thanks. Anyways, Matthew, is what I said true?"

Matthew nodded uncertainly. "Probably? Last thing I remember was being told to watch out."

Sokka groaned. "You mean you didn't see my awesome ass-kicking fight against 200 soldiers? Matthew, how could you!"

Katara punched him in the arm. "You didn't fight at all. Matthew's friend did. Or, I think he was his friend. You two hugged."

"He's my brother. Alfred. He and I got separated, and I found him."

The siblings shared an astonished look. "No way, he was a Firebender! You're a Waterbender. You can't be related to the Fire Nation! That'd mean..." Sokka cried.

"...That you could be a spy." Katara finished. "Or evil, or against us, or whatever. But I don't think that's true. He has to be someone else."

Matthew shook his head. "He spoke English. As far as I can tell, we're the only ones that do." He tried to brush off the comment about being evil based off your country of background, but it stung.

"Did you know he was a Firebender at least?"

Again, another shake. "No, just like I had no idea about my Waterbending."

Katara seemed encouraged by this. "Yeah, that makes sense. Plus, Arfled helped us when he fought the other Fire Nation soldiers."

"Maybe he's the spy then!" Sokka jumped. "Hey, Matt, is your brother a spy?"

"One, its Alfred, and two, I really don't know. Mind you I haven't seen my brother in just about a year. We could've asked him if he was here, but he's obviously not." Matthew was definitely grumpier than usual. His uncharacteristically rude comment ended the conversation completely, leaving them to sit in silence.

Katara and Sokka played a game of Bokki while Matthew stared over the edge of Appa, watching the sea of clouds rush by. The silence lasted roughly 30 minutes, longer than Matthew expected. Honestly, it was nice to have quiet once in a while. He untied his messy bun from the ship and let his hair fall around his neck. He combed through the golden locks with his fingers, trying to get out all the knots. It was hard.

Katara noticed, and her face softened. "Here, let me help." She crawled over to him and opened a pack she'd made while he stowed away on the ship. Inside was a lion-seal bone comb, strong and well made. She made him turn around and combed gently.

"You're hair is so...light. It floats sometimes. Is that because of the color?"

He didn't answer. He didn't feel like it.

"Probably. Hey, can you sing a song? In English? It usually sounds really pretty."

He closed his eyes. He could possibly do that.

"_Almost heaven, West Virginia_  
_Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River_  
_Life is old there, older than the trees_  
_Younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze_

_Country roads, take us home_  
_To the place we belong_  
_West Virginia, mountain mama_  
_Take us home, country roads_

_All my memories gather round her_  
_Miner's lady, stranger to blue water_  
_Dark and dusty, painted on the sky_  
_Misty taste of moonshine, teardrop in my eye_

_Country roads, take us home_  
_To the place we belong_  
_West Virginia, mountain mama_  
_Take us home, country roads_

_I hear his voice, in the morning hour he calls me_  
_The radio reminds me of our home far away_  
_And driving down the road I get a feeling_  
_That we should have been home yesterday, yesterday..._"

He didn't feel like continuing. That line was perfect to end on, at least in his circumstances. Katara nudged him, still combing. She was pulling his hair into a man bun, with water tribe beading and braids included.

"Can you continue? It sounds really nice."

Matthew paused. "I've never heard you sing anything. Does the Water Tribe have any, uh, what's the word, songs from the past?"

He could feel her stop combing for just a moment.

"There's one, but I'm not sure you'll like it."

Matthew shook his head gently. "My music taste is very diverse. Go ahead."

She took a breath, and started slow.

_"Here in the glaciers, among the icebergs,_  
_Memories of my family fill my head,_  
_And the water rushing past me,_  
_Leads me home to a warm meal and bed_

_I tread a path through the snow, make my mark,_  
_And will fight for my tribe with all my heart,_  
_We are the tides, the glaciers,_  
_Determined, connected and strong_

_But what if doubt surrounds you,_  
_Worries dragging you deep,_  
_Will I ever resurface? Will I ever find my feet?_  
_Don't worry little one, you're safe with me._

_I am part of the Water Tribe, powerful and strong,_  
_The moon is our guide, our partner is the sea,_  
_We stand with each other for long,_  
_And our family shall forever be._"

By the time she was done, she was sobbing. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and her hands were shaking. The comb laid beside Matthew, forgotten.

"That was a song our mother used to sing. It's-it's the only song I know."

His cool anger melted and he hugged her. She cried, her tears soaking into the fabric. Sokka was asleep, unaware of her dilemma, and Aang was too busy piloting. He ran his hand around her back in a circular motion, just like a parent would to a fussy baby.

"Its okay...It's okay..." He repeated.

Her tears eventually stopped flowing. "Thanks Mattie."

She leaned into him familiarly, like he was a brother to her as much as Sokka. No awkwardness, no hesitation. Just trust. Matthew kept his hand on her and leaned back slightly, putting some of his weight onto the saddle.

"I'll tell you a story, okay?"

She nodded, eyes closed.

Matthew cleared his throat, and the story began. A classic tale all children knew where he was from, but none here.

"Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived in a tower."

* * *

Earlier

Alfred's POV

"Get them out! Now!" He yelled, his heavily accented tongue unable to convey much more. The two blue-clad children from the village stared at him, scared. He repeated his command. "Please!"

They scrambled and grabbed the Avatar and Mattie, dragging them up onto the fur monster. Alfred was panicking. Where did that attack come from?

His answer was found. Zuko stood at the highest point on the ship, tall, proud, and furious. He stanced himself and started to build up another Fireball.

Alfred doubted he could draw the heat away from Mattie and his friends like he did the first time. He was sweating more than a Houstoner in August, and he felt exhausted.

The kids got Mattie into the saddle as well as the Avatar. No matter how much he wanted to run away with Mattie, he couldn't. He had to make sure they got away safely, which meant staying behind.

The boy yelled something resembling "Yip yip!" and the beast took off, leaving Alfred to defend. Firebenders were inside, melting the ice steadily. Others joined Zuko on top and started throwing their own fireballs.

Al couldn't let them hit Mattie. He breathed in deeply, and let his body take control. It was like another heartbeat added to his own, one that was strong like his. His body spun, stepped, and twirled naturally. He grabbed the heat of the fireballs and lead them towards himself. The pure raw energy. He had to convert it.

He focused all of it into a sphere and let it turn some of the heat into sound and light. When he released it, he was knocked back by the shock. His vision went white and his ears rang.

When he came to his senses, the dock was only covered in small patches of ice. Al's skin steamed, and promptly, he passed out from shock, exhaustion, and many other things.

* * *

Unknown Place

3rd Person Omniscient POV

"And with that, I declare the 5th world meeting of 2018 open!" England banged a gavel on the table with a flourish. "Anyone wish to be on the speaker's list?"

"Oh quit trying to be professional. This is an emergency! There's no time for order!" Kazakhstan yelled, standing.

"Of course we need order! How else will we hear each other?" Laos argued back.

"Can't we eat lunch first?" Belgium whined. "I'm hungry..."

Germany stood. "Do I have to do what I usually do?"

"God, please. I'm suffering." Chile agreed. "Get it over with."

Germany cleared his throat. "EVERYBODY, SHUT UP!" The room went quiet, but a few countries sent Germany a glare. "Danke. Now, we will all speak in an orderly fashion. 2 minutes per speaker. Who wishes to be first?"

"I do." China stood as Germany sat down, satisfied.

"My fellow nations, it is of the utmost importance that we find out what was happened to the victims of the Vanishing. As you all know, 7 Nations have gone missing in 4 months, with no sign of where they've gone. While the people of their own countries have been managed by their own governments in the meanwhile, they cannot last much longer. I propose that each country pays to fund a full-on search for such countries. Even though you may be enemies with some politically, they are still Nations, and therefore, our brethren." He sat.

Mexico went next. She waited until the room was perfectly silent. "As a member of North America, I cannot stress how important it is to bring back Canada and America. You can see the destruction is starting to leak into my own country and affect my people. I fear I may be the next victim of the Vanishing, and that forces me to stay awake at night. I therefore fully support China, and urge you all to do the same."

"I disagree." The Netherlands stood, tall and imposing. "As many of us aware, time is money. Spending this time looking for countries is ridiculous. They surely are strong enough to return, and their countries are working perfectly fine. With their allies' respective countries running their banks and government, it is safe to assume we'll be fine for months to come. Therefore, we should instead invest said money into strengthening our own countries against this attack."

Murmurs flew across the room. "Yeah, he's right." Chad nodded.

"We do need the money..." Azerbaijan commented. "Our people come first..."

"This is utter nonsense!" Austria cried. "Are none of you at all truly concerned? A force has taken several countries in a matter of months. This kind of power exceeds that of the Great Roman Empire. My ex-wife and brother are missing. Sure it'll be costly searching for them, but it'll be devastating if they disappear forever."

Fighting broke out. The countries broke into sides, clumping together based on ideas. The micronations looked worriedly at each other.

"OI! SHUT UP!" Australia stood on top of the table, cupping his hands. "Be quiet or I'll release my wildlife on ya!"

The room fell silent, but some of the African countries snorted at his threat. Who was he to assert his animals were the most dangerous?

"Look, how about we try different things? The countries that need to focus on their economy can do that, while us bigger Nations can focus on finding them. Zea and I don't really care what happens, so long as something does. Ain't that right Zea?"

New Zealand shrugged. "I'm down."

Australia nodded. "See? All the countries who want to keep the world economy afloat, come with me." He waved his hand, jumped off the table, and lead a good 2/3 of the countries out of the room.

England stared. "That was the first I've ever seen Australia prevent chaos."

South Africa snickered. "Bet 1,000,000,000 rand that he'll mess it up within an hour."

Germany rolled his eyes. "Stop. All of us here have agreed to search for the victims of the Vanishing, so let's talk about that."

Norway stared. "The trolls are saying its not humans."

England perked up. "Really? Is it magic?"

"Mein Gott, not this again. If you want to talk about magic and fairies, go elsewhere."

"Well, excuse you too." Romania got up and left, followed by about 6-7 countries.

With the meeting room properly empty enough to get things actually done, the nations worked tirelessly throughout the day, calculating and strategizing how to find their allies. But no matter what they came up with, the same question always bubbled back up.

What was causing such a phenomenon?

* * *

Matthew's POV

The rest of the trip was boring. Katara fell asleep soon enough, and eventually, so did Aang. He was alone with the stars.

They were beautiful, but the patterns were unlike anything he knew. No North Star. No Big Dipper. No Orion or Scorpio or Andromeda. All completely new and strange.

This only made him feel worse.

Back in the South Pole, he either went inside before he could properly see the stars or if he did, didn't pay much attention. But now, alone, with nothing else to do, he could watch all he wanted.

He hated it. Matthew didn't hate much, but he hated this. He'd never felt so lost and afraid. So human. Even when disaster struck his home he didn't feel the same. This was a raw, primal force that refused to make him feel welcome. He felt rejected by nature itself. He couldn't feel the heartbeat of his country.

He wondered if this was an afterlife, and he hadn't remembered his death yet.

Was this how Prussia felt?

He found himself unable to sleep, and so he watched the stars all night long, like he did when he was little. As the sun peaked over the horizon, Sokka started to stir. Never in Matthew's life had he been so relieved to see the teen wake up.

"Morning Sokka." He greeted.

The boy looked over his blanket. "Hey, Matt. Can you get out some Prune Tea for me?"

Matthew wrinkled his nose. He fished inside their pack for, in his opinion, still the grossest food to exist, plopped two of them into a skin of water, and concentrated. He felt the pushing and pulling of the molecules inside the pouch, and urged them to move faster. They did, slowly at first, but rapidly within a few seconds. The skin grew warm, and steam started to flow out. He capped the skin and let it brew the tea.

"How did you sleep?"

Sokka yawned and stretched. "Well enough. It was really warm inside my sleeping bag though."

Matthew chuckled. "Going north does that."

"I guess." He blinked a few times. "Am I the first one up?"

"Other than me, yes."

Sokka rolled his eyes. "Dude, you like, barely sleep. You don't count."

Matthew smirked and handed the boy the pouch of steaming prune water. "Whatever you say, Sleeping Beauty."

Sokka's face went blank for a moment. "You mean that weird princess from that story you told us a while ago?" He tried. Matthew was taken aback by his memory, but his surprise quickly faded. It was Sokka.

"Exactly." Matthew cleaned his glasses. "Glad you remembered." Did his lenses always have to get so filthy? Back home they almost never did, and now-now they acted like regular glasses.

"Only because it was really weird. Who in the world has magic hair? Or an animal that's just a Chameleon. Not a Chameleon-Snail, or a Chameleon-Fox, or a Chameleon-Penguin." Sokka chattered.

Matthew shook his head. "Ever consider that Chameleon came before those animals? That's the reason why they're named that way?"

"Huh?" Sokka scrunched his nose like a rabbit.

Matthew sighed. "Forget about it."

Sokka took a swig of the tea and swallowed. "Where even are we?"

"I dunno. Aang will tell us when he wakes up." Matthew looked over at their bald companion with sympathy. He wasn't even a teen and he almost pulled an all-nighter piloting Appa. Even Al would've wavered under such stress. Matthew admired his strength but frowned at his childishness. He shouldn't push himself so hard. he's just a kid. And even though Matthew knew what children could do when motivated, he didn't want anyone to be pushed to such extreme measures.

He could remember his father's tales of the bloody massacres in France. Saint Bartholomew's Day Massacre stood out in his mind at the moment. He could practically hear the screams of parents and children alike as families were ripped apart for religion. The crown betraying the people. Blood soaking the streets.

He shivered.

"Hey, are you seriously cold? Bro, it's warmer here than in the summer back home!" Sokka's voice thankfully dragged him out of that dark mental spiral. Matthew's hands were clammy, and beneath his clothes, his skin was slicked with sweat. He felt a bit hollow inside, just thinking about the bodies he'd seen. The blood and violence. All of it was sickening.

"No, I'm just..." He smiled. Just let Sokka win. It'd ease his worry anyways. "Yeah, you got me."

Sokka shook his head in disbelief. "You never cease to amaze me, _Glasses_."

Matthew blinked and gently placed his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He'd just used the English word for glasses. How?

Sokka smirked triumphantly. "Bet you weren't expecting that, huh? I've picked up some of your weird language from your mutterings in the past few years. Plus, we don't have a word for _glasses._"

Matthew stared. Sokka was pronouncing it perfectly, something that took a while for non-native speakers to manage while also blending the word into his language to make it feel natural and not foreign. He eventually lost the feeling of being dumbfounded and found his ability to speak.

"I'm surprised, that's for sure." He chuckled a bit. "So I'll allow the nickname."

Sokka nodded his head in approval. "Great! I was practicing that word for weeks."

"Alone?" That was even more shocking, but, really, in retrospect, it wasn't. Who in the village would want to practice the pronunciation of a foreign word they didn't care about?

"Heck yeah! It's pretty good, right? I was thinking-if we learn your language, then the Fire Nation won't be able to understand us! We could write in it too, because your characters are totally different." Sokka seemed happier and happier the more he explained an idea he'd probably be sitting on for weeks. Matthew took it all in at once, a little taken aback by how innovative his thinking was.

"That's..._maple, _Sokka, that's a great idea. Al and I are the only ones that know English from what I've seen, so you kids knowing a different language that no one here's ever seen before? They'll be stumped."

"What'll be stumped?" Katara asked sleepily, lifting her head. She blinked slowly a few times and ran her tongue across her teeth. "Bleh, my mouth tastes terrible."

Sokka passed her the skin filled with tea. "Here. Matthew and I were just discussing how awesome my plan is, right Mattie?"

Matthew narrowed his eyes slightly. He could almost hear a slight cheekiness coming off of Sokka, but why, he had no clue. "Yes we were. I think learning English is an excellent idea."

Katara groaned as soon as she removed the water skin from her mouth. "Ugh, seriously? Sokka, you didn't even give me a chance to tell him my idea!"

Sokka smiled innocently, batting his eyelashes. "What idea, dear sister?"

"It doesn't matter now, since obviously your idea is superior." She pouted. Matthew deflated a little, knowing that he'd be craving a few aspirin within an hour or so. He could already hear the ceaseless bickering.

He reached into the bag and grabbed some seal jerky. For what is was, it was really tasty. Matthew had gotten fond of the food in his months of living in the South Pole. Sokka being addicted as well probably could be listed as a factor for his feelings towards the dried meat.

Chewing on said meat, he crawled carefully towards Appa's head, away from the siblings. He loved the kids to death, but they could get tiresome fairly easily. Aang was still asleep, happily snuggled between the bison's horns despite them floating several thousand feet in the air.

Matthew stared at the sky, watching the clouds shift and change. At first he'd been angry towards Aang, Katara, and Sokka for leaving Alfred behind, but he understood why. Al would never give up a fight to run away, especially to protect his friends. And if he'd insisted on it, then there was no way to convince him easily.

The soft grey of the sky faded into a warm blushing rose color. Matthew just leaned over the edge, watching. And eventually, somehow, his eyes closed.

* * *

Matthew was on a ship. It wasn't the metal ship Al had been on, but a strong, well built ship made of wood. The sun beat down on his back, and the smell of salt reminded him of days he spent at sea during war. A rat-seagull squawked from the mast, its throaty cry carrying through the wind.

Where was he?

A man covered in scars and ragged clothes walked through Matthew, carrying a scabbard. The sensation he felt while the man walked through him was similar to a tingle down his spine, but through all of his body. Matthew froze completely, trying to figure out what just happened to him.

A man just walked through him. Sure he'd been invisible in the past, but intangibility was a bit too far. Even Gilbert was tangible.

A strong commanding voice caught him off guard. It took him a moment to register, but the voice was speaking a slightly different dialect than what he knew. It seemed harsher on the consonants. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn't turn to see who was speaking. All he knew was that it was a woman with a smooth and dangerous voice. It was as sharp as a dagger.

"Do you idiots even know what fast means? We have got to get to port by high noon today!" She yelled. Men similar to the one that walked through Matthew only moments before emerged from below the hull, all worn from travel. Yet they obeyed the woman, readying the ship for docking.

"Captain! Captain!" A younger, springier voice, as well as feminine, voice bubbled, "Look!"

A bright spot on deck immediately fell into shadow. The shadow was perfectly spherical and around a meter in diameter. The light from the area bent and twisted around the deck, glowing.

Lightbending.

All Matthew could think was that word before the light struck him and his mind went blank.

* * *

Alfred's POV

As he slowly came to, Al quickly realized he was shackled. The cuffs weren't particularly heavy or uncomfortable, but they were restraints nonetheless. The adult peeled his eyelids open to the dim reddish light he knew all too well. He was below deck.

"What?" He croaked. His throat felt dry and thirsty, and his muscles burned. Not as in exercise burn, but physical fire scars.

A cooling salve was applied to the burnt flesh, and Alfred could feel the tiniest hint of relief. Its coolness gave a tingling sensation to his nerves, almost like a buzzing.

There was a murmur from the healer or nurse. It was in the native tongue, one he knew very little of. All he could catch was "fire" and "How do you feel?"

"Terrible." He replied. "Zuko."

Another tingling patch, this time on his arms. "Not here."

Alfred tried to open his eyes, but when he did, all he could see was darkness. A panic built up in his throat. Was he blind? He didn't know anything anymore. His muscles contracted, and he felt trapped. Restricted.

"Okay." The voice said. It'd switched to simple, easy words. A smooth, soft hand gripped his strongly. He could feel its reassuring warmth, even the little pulse of the blood in its blood vessels, and that helped calm him down.

"Get Zuko." It announced, and the hand left his. Al almost called for them to come back.

It seemed like a good century or two before Al heard the door creak open again. He nearly sat up in joy, but his body wouldn't allow it. So he lay still, listening.

**"Are you okay, Alfred?"**

Zuko. It was his strong, teen voice that Al grew to know very well. Al licked his dry, cracked lips and tried to speak.

**"Ca-"**He coughed, **"Can you get some water?"**

Zuko huffed. **"That's what you say after nearly getting yourself killed by helping the enemy? You're a traitor Alfred. This is an act of treason against the Fire Nation."**

Al stayed silent, soaking it in. How would they treat him, now that he committed such an act? Probably poorly at best. He must've been silent for just a second too long, because before he even spoke, Zuko said,

**"Explain yourself. Now."**

Alfred nodded barely. **"I...the Avatar has my brother as a hostage. If I didn't let them escape, my brother would've died."**

It was a good explanation. Zuko knew Al had a brother, so it wouldn't seem like a lie either. In truth, Al knew Mattie was with them willingly. He didn't blame Matthew at all. He wouldn't want to stay with these hot-blooded, monarchy-supporting Fire Benders either.

It was now Zuko's turn to be silent. Eventually, he simply said, **"I see."**

And then he left Alfred to his thoughts once more.

* * *

After a few days, Alfred was finally able to sit up. His muscles screamed and his skin howled with the effort, but lying still for so long made any pain worth moving for. He patted his face, hoping to feel that it was bandages that hid the light from his eyes, but all his fingertips could feel was the scarred flesh on his face. He could feel the charred ends of his eyelash hairs, and he could tell that his eyes were open.

He was blind, and now he couldn't even create tears to even show his feelings.

He groped around the bed, hoping to find something to drink, but he search turned up empty. When the nurse found him, he was escorted to the dining hall, where he was fed every piece of fish and every chunk of mashed appletatoes. A flask of water was brought to his lips for him. He felt utterly useless.

The days continued like that for what seemed like eternity.

It was at night when he decided he would have to do something. He was sick and tired of being treated as useless. He needed to heal, but these injuries-even for him it would take a few good months. A few days ago he started to register light sources, by only in very dark rooms like the infirmary. On deck, he was just as useless as before.

Again and again with the uselessness. He couldn't organize. He couldn't feed himself. He couldn't even leave his quarters to take a piss at night. He couldn't bear it anymore.

So the next time Zuko visited, Al stood and clasped what he assumed to be Zuko's shoulders and stared where he supposed the prince's eyes should be.

**"Teach me Fire Bending. Please. We both saw I could do it, when I bent the flames away from the Avatar. Teach me."**

**"No. You can't even move without assistance." **Zuko asserted.

**"Then what am I doing now? Zuko, please. I've never felt this useless before."**

Another lie, but this wasn't intentional. He'd been so bored that almost anything was exciting.

**"No."**

**"Why?"**

Zuko drew in a sharp breath and removed Al's hands from his shoulders. **"Because I can't! I don't know how to handle you, or your fire, or anything about you! You're weird, Al, you know that? No one knows where you came from. No one knows your weird language. You make references to things that never happened. You're an enigma. Who are you?!"**

Al dropped his hands at his sides. Zuko had never come at his with such vigor. Al couldn't answer half of those questions. **"I don't know."**

**"What was that?"**

**"I don't know."**

**"Then ask me about Firebending when you find out."**

Al was alone. Again.

* * *

This was becoming tiresome, and Alfred wasn't going to stand for it.

The next morning, he dragged himself to the dining hall without any assistance. Anyone who even tried he shoved off and gently as he could, trying not to injure his flesh any more than he had to. He finally got there after several minutes of bumping into walls and sat next to where Zuko always sat.

**"Zuko?"** He asked.

No answer. He frowned. This was tricky. Either Zuko was there and just being quiet, or he wasn't there at all. If he continued talking to air, then he'd look like a fool, but if Zuko was there, he'd look like he'd fallen for it. Which to choose?

**"Zuko, I'm gonna ask one more time. Please teach me Fire Bending. I...the power I feel within me, its like a little heartbeat, and I only want it to grow stronger. I don't want to suppress the talent I was given."**

**"Who are you, Alfred?"**

At least it was a response he was prepped for. "**I am Alfred F. Jones. I am a traveler aboard a Fire Nation ship. I am a helper to the General Iroh."**

**"And who is more important to you? The Fire Nation or the Avatar?"**

Alfred gulped. This answer would seal his fate, at least upon this ship. **"Forgive me Matthew." **He whispered.

**"The Fire Nation. You are the ones that allowed me to stay after stowing away, after all."**

**"Fine. We start tonight."**

* * *

Matthew's POV

When he woke up, they were just about to land. Appa was nearing the ground , where grass was covered in a light fog. Surrounding the grass, however, was fog so thick Matthew couldn't see his hand when he put said appendage in it.

"Where are we?" Katara asked, sliding down Appa's tail.

"Welcome to my home, guys! This is the Southern Air Temple." Aang floated down from the Air bison and landed smoothly on the ground. Katara and Sokka eyed each other.

"The Western Air Temple...huh. Where exactly is it?" Matthew peered into the fog.

"This way." Aang grabbed Matthew's hand and turned him in the opposite direction. Before him was a massive stone structure. Seeing a structure not made of ice or fabric was almost strange. Matthew tried to take it all in at once.

"Come on, I'll show you around!" Aang ran towards the entrance.

Once he was out of earshot, Sokka whispered, "He does know about the genocide, right?"

Katara glared. "I'm sure it'll be fine. Come on Matthew, let's not keep him waiting." She stuck her tongue out at Sokka and dragged the Canadian with her.

For ruins of a building that was sacked and left alone for a hundred years, they looked pretty good. The flora and fauna were well maintained, almost neat, and the chunks of building didn't look harsh. Rather, they looked like they belonged there.

It was hypnotically pleasant. It didn't, however, have the same effect of Katara, who dragged Matthew past all the beautiful mystery of the ruins. Inside the building they went.

"This is where we would eat every day." Aang poked his head inside. There was still ingredients for cooking left out.

"And here's where we learnt how to write." He led them down the hall to a classroom with desks and pillows for chairs. There was a charred notebook right by Aang's foot. Katara picked it up and read,

"Torma's Journal

Today's lesson is calligraphy, but I don't really like calligraphy. I just want to go play air ball with Yuyutsu and Chapal, but Monk Hyun said we have to do this instead."

Aang smirked a little. "Torma was a really good athlete. I wonder how his life was."

No one said anything after Aang's comment. To him, it was probably just a polite musing, but to Katara and Matthew-they knew the truth behind Torma's life. Or they could guess pretty well.

Their tour continued for ages, and finally they stumbled upon a flying lemur. Aang gasped comically and chased the creature energetically, using airbending and his own flexibility to chase the lemur. Katara and Aang ran after his as fast as they could, but they couldn't keep up. Not at the rate Aang was going at.

When they finally reached the Avatar, the two waterbenders were wheezing.

"Jeez Aang, slow down next time!" Karara huffed. "We could barely keep up."

Matthew elbowed Katara lightly. Aang wasn't responding to them, instead staying fixated on something within a tent.

"Aang?" Katara's voice changed from annoyed to cautious.

"They...They killed him." Aang muttered. "Gyatso...he's gone..."

Matthew walked up to stand beside the boy and looked where Aang's attention was focused. It was a skeleton of a man laying against the wall. "_Maple_...I'm so sorry Aan-"

"-Sorry won't bring him back, will it?!" Aang turned on the blonde boy, eyes ablaze. "The Fire Nation killed him and all of the monks. Look at their skeletons!"

A wind started to blow within the tent. Matthew stepped back. "Aang, you need to stay calm."

"I don't want to be!" He yelled. The wind started to howl, and rip at their clothes. Aang's face contorted to rage and his slammed his fists together. His eyes lit up with a ominous blue glow.

"Aang! Stop!" Katara cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled as loud as she could. Her voice was ripped away in the wind. "Would Gyatso want you to act like this?"

The wind faltered briefly. Matthew noticed and yelled at Katara, "KEEP GOING!"

"Aang! If Gyatso was still here, he wouldn't want you to grieve like this!"

"He's never coming back!" Aang yelled in retaliation.

Katara staggered towards the Airbender. "You have to maintain the peace you were taught. For Gyatso."

"I...have to..." He breathed. The wind slowed, Aang's face relaxed, and the eyes stopped glowing. He collapsed to the floor.

"Matthew, get him some water!" Katara commanded, lifting Aang's head into her lap. Matthew nodded and ran back to Appa.

He hoped Katara would be able to keep him calm.

As he navigated the confusing halls of the air temple, Matthew could've sworn he'd heard footsteps behind him. Yet every time he looked, no one was there. But the more he walked, the more he grew certain someone-or something-was following him. He quickened his pace and hurried through the passageways. He'd lose this creature, be it human or beast.

He must've, however, taken a wrong turn, because he found himself running up stairs. But there was no going back now. He'd just hide and wait out his purser.

So Matthew ducked behind a wall and hide in an alcove, trying to keep his breathing as quiet and regular as possible. His heart beat faster than it should've. Matthew mentally swore at himself. He was becoming more and more human the more he was away from home.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps stopped. Matthew's breath hitched, and he cursed himself for such a juvenile mistake.

Suddenly, he felt a familiar tingle in his back. A blade was pressed against his coat.

"_Who are you?_" The voice hissed, raspy and dry. It was in German.

Matthew swallowed a lump in his throat and answered honestly. "_Matthew Williams. I'm not here to hurt you._" He hoped to God and everything else out there that his German was correct. He couldn't afford a slip up now.

"_Is that the truth_?"

He nodded gently. "_Yes._"

The blade point was listed from his back. Matthew could hear metal clatter to the floor behind him and hands grabbed his shoulders, spinning him around.

Matthew came face to face with a white ghost of a person, his hair and skin purer than snow. The only color one him was a faded black tank top, ripped basketball shorts, and the red rubies he had for eyes. Everything about him was so similar yet so different. A silver cross hung around his lean neck.

It was none other than Gilbert Beilschmidt.


	5. Chapter 5

_Please put down your pitchforks and torches, despite me clearly having to have them pointed at me. I have notes to say at the end!_

Alfred's POV

**"Your breathing's all wrong! Calm down and start over!"**

**"Well, maybe I would be calmer if you weren't yelling at me all the time!"**

**"I wouldn't be yelling if you were actually competent!"**

Zuko glared at his blonde haired pupil. They'd been bickering back and forth for over an hour, but both were too stubborn enough to admit defeat. Zuko was fuming and Alfred was frustrated.

Al threw back his head.** "I don't understand. I'm breathing. Why isn't it working?"**

**"Fire isn't just some random element you can play with-"**

**"-It actually isn't eve an ele-"** Alfred started.

**"-Don't interrupt me. Fire isn't something you can just throw. Its alive and unpredictable. One misstep and you lose all control. Therefore, you need to learn to control the sole reason why fire burns in the first place before you actually use it. You need to control the air that feeds it."** Zuko warned.

Al threw his hands down into his lap.** "And how am I supposed to do that? I'm no air bender, neither are you. Air is air. Who cares if I breathe heavily or slowly? It all does the same thing."**

Zuko got up and sat closer to the blind man. His glasses were still perched on his nose, but both Zuko and Al knew it was for nostalgia and comfort more than anything. Zuko took Al's hand, one that had only a little bit of scarring, and placed it on his heart.

**"That's my heartbeat. You said before that fire has a heartbeat. So just like a person, fire's got to breathe normally to perform at its best."**

Al kept his hand on the teen's chest. His heartbeat was strong, but quick. He was nervous, or at least anxious. Alfred could relate. He felt excited, since this was the first time he was learning a completely new concept in ages, but also so scared that he'd mess up. And his own heartbeat-ever since he'd arrived he could feel it weakening.

It wasn't a dramatic change, only dropping in average BPM since he arrived, but that wasn't the only thing weakening. His connection to his past life-it was fading. Life in America started to feel like a dream. He was so used to speaking Japanese that his dreams started to be in Japanese rather than English.

In short, he was losing himself more and more for every second in this strange place.

**"Okay, okay, I get it. I need to chillax. One sec."**

What would be relaxing to think about? Home, for sure. But what about it? Maybe going to the movies with all his nieces and nephews?

No, those were too chaotic to be relaxing. A camping trip?

Again, it was too energetic to be relaxing. He needed something that screamed "chill out".

Then it hit him.

He imagined himself laying on the beach, waves lapping only a few yards away. The moon was hidden from sight, the cycle started anew. It was just him in the darkness, surrounded by stars.

The she appeared, lit only by the glow of those fiery balls of gas burning millions of miles away. A woman tall and string, marked with the scars of war and age. She quietly sat beside him and looked at the stars as well.

Nuna. Mom. Native America.

Alfred leaned into her arms, no longer a man but a child, not even old enough to pass for a kindergartner. She smelt like the forest, and was warm like the sun. She wrapped hers arms loosely around him in response.

_"Little cub, do not fear the future. Though pain and suffering are sure to befall you time and time again, you must stand strong. You are a warrior and my son."_

Alfred looked up at her, eyes brimming with tears. Even though this was just a memory, every bit of it felt real. Nuna combed her fingers through his hair, gently pulling out the twigs and dirt he'd amassed. It felt so delicate and so loving.

_"Nuna, I promise I'll be the best warrior out there!"_ He announced, smiling.

She smiled and kissed him delicately on the forehead. _"I'm sure you will. Remember, I'll be with you no matter what, cub, so don't worry about me. Go ahead and make your own path, my dear America."_

Al smiled. Nuna was the right choice after all. His mind felt soothed, and he could tell his mind was at ease. He breathed in deeply and gently let it out. He could almost hear Zuko's approval, so he continued. In, out. In, out.

**"That wasn't so hard, was it?"**

Alfred chuckled. Zuko could be a bitch sometimes, but when you really spent time with him, he wasn't all that bad.

**"I guess so."**

* * *

Matthew's POV

"Gil?"

Matthew's throat went as dry as the Sahara desert instantaneously. It couldn't be Gilbert, but yet, here he was. And just like he usually would do, Gil laughed.

"Of course it is me! Vat, do you think zhat someone could do zhat good of an impression of me?"

Matthew just stared. Gil's hair was longer than usual, the close cropped hair now closer to loose and gentle short waves, but his eyes remained the same. Strong as steel and red as rubies.

Matt supposed that if Al could be here, then his friends had a chance of appearing in this strange world as well, but the likeliness of finding them was close to none.

"Stop staring." Gilbert commanded. "Its creepy."

Matthew's face flushed and he looked away. "Sorry, I'm just...How long have you been here? It looks deserted."

Gilbert looked around cautiously. "I don't vant to say it here. Come, ve'll go to my super awesome hideout!"

Matthew so desperately wanted to ask, "Why not say it here?" but he knew that once the Prussian made up his mind, it was final.

Instead, he nodded. "Okay, I don't see why not." A little bit more exploring couldn't hurt. Plus, Matthew realized that if Gil had any water, it would be cleaner than stuff they'd been sharing for the past few days.

"Ja, it's vicked cool." Gilbert waved Matthew into the alcove where he'd hidden. "Come."

Gilbert turned his back to the Canadian and pressed his hands against the wall's engravings. A small breeze came from somewhere near Gilbert, but Matthew couldn't tell where. The wall slid to the side, and inside was a staircase descending downwards.

Gilbert smiled over his shoulder. "Cool, right?"

Matthew nodded. Secret passages weren't too uncommon in places like this. How Gilbert opened it was another matter entirely. Matthew was trying to figure if there was a button or level he pulled, or maybe a code?

They descended into the darkness, the only light coming from small slits high above. Every footstep echoes and water dripped continuously. It was like a set from a movie, or even a story. Matthew strained his eyes to try and catch any other passageways or paths, but his eyes hadn't adjusted to the darkness yet. Gilbert's lack of words didn't help the overwhelming sense of disquietude he felt creeping behind him like a mugger in the night.

Just him, the stairs, and the white of Gilbert's hair to look at.

Eventually, after what seemed like an unnecessary amount of descending, Matthew decided to start a conversation.

"So, how've you been?"

Gilbert laughed a little. "Gut, gut. A leetle lonely, but zhat's normal."

Matthew realized something. "How long have you been here? As far as we could tell, no one lived here at all."

Gilbert's laugh returned. "I don't know, but ve can look at zhe wall. It doesn't really matter zhough."

Well, that killed the conversation. Matthew wished he had his parka on at the moment, because the further down they went the cooler it became. But no, he'd left it on Appa. He rubbed his arms, trying to generate warmth.

He laughed a bit at himself. A few months ago, snow and icy water didn't bother him. But now, cool air did. He was becoming more and more human.

How much longer did he have? Hopefully long enough to escape.

They reached the bottom of the stairs quickly after that. Matthew's eyes had adjusted to the darkness well enough to see high alcoves carved into the stone walls filled with scrolls, low lying wooden tables with calligraphy brushes and ink pots, and sculptures covered in dust laying in the corner. Every sound Matthew made echoed in the cavernous room.

"Willkommen to mein awesome lair!" Gilbert cackled. "Have a seat, have a seat. I'll get you a drink."

Matthew awkwardly sat on one of the old pillows. He could feel how soft and cushy it was, but also the age. This cushion was decades old. "So, you've lived here for a while, eh?"

Gilbert searched through a pile of earthenware pots and cups. "Ja, I have. It is a gut home, ja?"

Matthew played with the tassels on the pillow. "Its...yeah, it's nice. But Gil, its been months since I've seen you. How long have you lived in your...lair?"

Gilbert's hand flew up and gestured to the cavern walls. "Count zhe scratches."

Matthew unfolded his legs and walked over to the wall. Etched into the rock were a myriad of long scratches, painstakingly carved with something that looked like a crude tool. He ran his fingers over them. There had to be nearly 50, probably closer to 60, bundles of 5.

"Oh maple..." He whispered.

Gilbert stood up, carrying an old teapot-shaped vessel. "Hey, don't vorry about it. If I can survive Berlin, I can survive zhis."

Matthew looked at his friend. How could it be possible he looked paler? His hand slid off the wall and to his side, where it hung limply.

"You're right. And hey, I'm here now."

Gilbert snorted. "As if zhe awesome me vould need rescuing like some princess."

"I don't know, you're as pretty as one." Matthew joked.

"Damn right I am." Gilbert imitated Alfred's voice pretty well, even going so far as to add the extra bit of energy that oozed from his brother. They shared a glance and burst out laughing. It echoed like everything else in this cave.

Once they finished, Gilbert placed the pot on a oven glowing warm with embers behind a metal door. "You stay here, I'll get some vater."

Matthew stopped him from getting up. "Wait, you don't need to. There's plenty of water here in the air. I can feel it."

Gilbert lifted an eyebrow. "How are you going to get it?"

"By Water Bending. Look, Gil, this world doesn't obey our laws. There's some force that allows people to control water, and fire, and earth. I ended up with an affinity for water."

"So you can summon vater?"

"Yeah, well, no." Matthew stood. "I can group and control it. Like this." He closed his eyes and breathed in. It was humid down here. He moved his arms, feeling the particles slowly joining in on his movements. He kept moving, collecting more and more droplets. He could feel the weight on his arms, but continued moving it around. Stop moving and it'd either fall or freeze. He opened his eyes and led the water into the pot, only spilling a few droplets as he snaked the floating stream into the pot.

He looked at Gilbert, expecting shock, or fear, or anything he felt when he first discovered this power.

All he got was a grim face. "Ah." Gilbert simply said.

He put his hands on the ground and flew 8 feet in the air as a gust of wind nearly knocked Matthew over. "So zhat vould explain zhis, huh?"

* * *

_Okay, explanation time. I'm really sorry for 1) the late chapter and 2) not updating sooner. My life quickly took a turn for the worse and I had to really try to dig myself out of a metaphorical hole. I do plan on continuing this, of course, but updates will be more sporadic than initially promised(hopefully not this bad!)_

_But to all of you who followed and favorited and reviewed my story, thank you so so much! I now have a folder in my email dedicated to you all! I really appreciate every single word. _

_I know this crappy excuse for appeasement isn't at all worth the wait I gave you all, but its all I have for now!_

_With love, _

_Msperfectsheep_


	6. Chapter 6

Alfred's POV

He wasn't expecting Firebending to be so difficult. He thought it would come naturally to him, like Calculus, Astrophysics, or Music Theory did. But to his surprise, it was the hardest thing he's ever tried to learn. Maybe it was the blindness, or his constant frustration towards Zuko, but something was stopping him from understanding it.

He sat in his quarters, brushing his hair with his fingers. It was growing long now, he could feel it. Blonde locks wreathed his face, but no matter what, the Fire Nation personnel wouldn't let him cut it. It was strange, feeling it like this. It was longer than he'd ever let it become.

Sighing, he slumped against the wall. Everything was so dark. He could feel the fire in him now, a little heartbeat that kept constant. It was the only reassuring thing now, especially since he had been cutoff from his homeland for so long that he couldn't feel his country's heartbeat.

He rubbed his fingers over his glasses. He wasn't sure why he still wore them. He could tell the lenses were cracked, and he didn't need them to see.

Simple thought like this went on for god who knows how long. Alfred was just sick and tired of waiting, but that's all he was allowed to do on this ship apparently.

His mind went to things like Mattie, and people he hadn't seen for months, like Artie, or Francis, or even Carlos. It was making him feel so lonely, but if he didn't think about them, he would be bored.

Then he thought of something. He didn't know if it would work, but he had to try. Stumbling, he walked off his bed and felt around his bedroom for a scroll, ink pot, and calligraphy brush.

He found one after the other. He hoped he knew what he was doing, but he most likely didn't. he dipped the brush in the ink pot and lifted it above the scroll after feeling to make sure he wouldn't miss the paper.

He wrote what he hoped was the following.

"_Dear whomever is reading this,_

_Congratulations! You can read English. So far, I haven't met anyone other than me and my brother who know it, so if you're Mattie, hi! You're probably gonna be mad at me for being dumb and whatever._

_Anyways, if you aren't, I'm glad you found this. I'm currently on a Fire Nation ship. I've been learning Z̶u̶k̶o̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶o̶r̶s̶t̶ ̶t̶e̶a̶c̶h̶e̶r̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ how to Firebend, but it's been hard. But that isn't the focus of this letter. I need to tell someone this, even if its a danger._

_I am Alfred F Jones, but that's an alias. The truth is, I'm a nation. The United States of America in fact. I am an immortal-ish being that's been around for around 5 centuries. I can be killed, starved, blinded, and tortured, but I always come back. I need your help to find a way back to my country, one way or another. My people-I need them, and they need me. If you want to find me, look for a man with hair the color of wheat and glasses. _

_Thank you._

_The United States of America_"

He rolled up the scroll and tucked it under his mattress, near his feet.

His secret was out, sorta. He doubted anyone could read it, but if they could, it would be amazing. He could finally freely talk about things he had to keep quiet for safety's sake.

He put back the supplies meticulously, changed into a simple nightwear tunic, and fell asleep.

The morning after, Alfred awoke to the sound of shouting. He felt around for his glasses and rolled out of the bed. He patted down his hair with his hands, hoping it looked okay, and stumbled out of his room and up to the deck. As he ascended, he could feel the air changing to a stiff warmth to a cooler and gentle breeze.

The other crew members greeted him in the native language, parts of which he understood. It was mostly just "Good Morning!"s and "Glad to see you're not dead!", but even just the sentiment was nice. Al felt around for the railing and used it as a guide to walk around.

"Hey, does anyone know is where Zuko?" He asked.

"He's on the _ekh gazryn_. Oh, and Al, I think you mean 'know where Zuko is.'" A crew member supplied.

"What's an ekh gazryn?" There were still plenty of words he didn't know.

"Uh, its a...a big land?"

Island, perhaps? Or maybe mainland? Or even cliffs, could fit. Whatever, it meant he was off of the ship. And that meant they finally docked.

"Can you get me to him?"

"Sure!" He heard something being placed on the ground by his foot, and then the strength of the man-he was 79% sure it was Sui Zhun, but there was always the chance it was someone else-wrapping around his arm and guiding him down stairs. For a militaristic boat, they were strangely kind to a blind person, but Al wouldn't dream of objecting. Maybe it was because of Zuko's similar condition?

The downwards slope went on for a bit. The rhythmic sound of their footsteps on the metal was soothing. Alfred desperately wished he could strike up a conversation with his buddy, but he didn't know enough of the common language. He _despised_ how long it was taking him to learn this language, but he couldn't do anything.

"Sleep good?" He asked lamely.

His companion laughed. It had to be Sui Zhun, with that laugh. "Yeah. My _mung_ was _vui ve._"

More words he didn't know. He nodded and stayed silent, completely at loss for how to respond.

"Yeah."

"How about you kid? I _hui_ you can still see in your _mung_, right?"

Alfred shrugged. "I...no?" He wouldn't be able to say it, even if he wanted to. Plus, now the word "mung" was more mysterious than ever.

"Ah. That's rough, buddy." He patted Al on the back. "Zuko's there." He pushed Al forwards, leaving the blind man to fend for himself. While they didn't bully him, they certainly didn't give him special treatment either.

"Zuko?"

He heard scuffling before him and then the teen's scratchy voice. **"I'm over here, Alfred."**

**"Where are we?"**

**"Yeong Won Island. We're stopping here to refuel before continuing our chase after the Avatar."**

Of course. Not an actual stop, just a quick refueling trip. Alfred should've expected as much, and yet he still felt disappointed.

**"Oh, cool. Is there anything here?"**

**"Just some villagers. They should show no hostility, since we conquered this island over 60 years ago."**

How wrong he was. Al knew the anger one could hold towards an oppressive force could last centuries, but he held his tongue. **"Of course. Do you mind if I just wander around? I won't go too far."**

He heard a snapping sound and something tapping against his hand. **"Here, take this stick so you don't trip. Curfew's at sundown."**

Helpful. Al nodded and walked forward, rolling the stick side to side in front of him just as he'd seen any other blind person do. He'd grown so used to the shape of the ship, his room especially, that being somewhere different was...offputting, to say the least.

All around him, things chirped and buzzed with life. The rustling of leaves and crunching of twigs felt like a lullaby to him. The faraway sound of lapping waves and gentle breezes swaying the trees brought him all the more closer to Ash Island. Rika's broken English and cheery singing voice. The nights where they laid on the ground and stared at a sky completely foreign to Al.

He just wanted a home.

A place where he had more than one person to talk to, where he didn't have to lie constantly. He didn't hate the people on the ship-no, they'd treated him well and even regarded him as one of their own. But Al couldn't find himself sympathizing with their cause. They were monarchists, imperialists, conquerors and oppressors. It went against everything he fought for in his youth.

But no one else, even ones who wanted freedom, dared to even speak to him. Even Rika and Wang, they were Fire Nation.

He stopped walking and let the mental tears he made flow. Though his cheeks remained dry, his heart and mind broke down and sobbed. He cried for the home he was ripped away from, the family from which he was uprooted, the misfortune that followed him where ever he went.

Heroes didn't cry, but was Al really a hero anymore?

* * *

Matthew's POV

Gilbert flew. Just like Aang, in fact, _exactly_ like Aang, Gilbert propelled himself through the air.

Matthew gaped. Gilbert was simply worse at it than Aang, no question about it, but he was better than Matthew would ever be. Gilbert's movements were janky and uncontrolled, like a rag doll tossed through the air. Aang's were smooth and calculated, delicate in every step.

"You can Airbend?!" Matthew exclaimed, finally finding his words.

"Zhat's vat it's called?" Gilbert asked as he finally returned to gravity's control. "Lame! Avesome Invisible Cannon sounds much better!"

"Awesome Invisible...Cannon?" Matthew's amazement faded and turned to humor. "I can't believe you named it that."

Gilbert combed through his snow-white hair with his fingers. "Of course I did. Gilbird agrees. It is a much better name, ja."

Matthew laughed. "Gilbird? He's here too?"

Gilbert lit up and scooped up a faded yellow beanbag with a smeared black face.

"Das ist Gilbird Zwei!"

"Gilbert 2?"

"Exactly! Isn't he avesome?"

Matthew scratched the back of his neck, and as he did so, he realized how cold his fingertips were. He pulled them away and shoved them in his pockets.

"Erm...yeah. Listen, Gil, can we get back on track?"

Gilbert shrugged and placed Gilbert Zwei on his shoulder. "Of course. I can "Airbend"." He did air quotes with his fingers, clearly disliking the official title for his powers. "I discovered it when I was cleaning zhis place out to make mein lair. Zhere were zhese scrolls zhat told me vat to do, and I did it. Boom, Invisible Air Cannon!"

He was self taught, which made sense. Matthew stared at the earthenware pot sitting happily on the coals, bubbling away. So far, he'd encountered only two other nations, and neither were Waterbenders. Al...he was a Firebender. And while he didn't know the exact workings of the politics in this world, he knew Al had accidentally been dropped into the ranks of the force he and the Avatar would try to stop. The imperialists. The conquerors.

He could imagine how happy Al was to been working under a monarchical government.

And then here Gilbert was. An Airbender, the only one to exist for the past 100 years, except for Aang. The bounty on his head was massive as is, and being an albino would only raise the intrigue. It was only a matter of time before the Fire Nation started tracking them. The kids weren't familiar with war tactics, but he was. They would follow them to the corners of the Earth if they had to to stop Aang from reaching his potential.

And travelling with 2 Waterbenders didn't exactly help his case.

Welp, might as well add one more. Gilbert was as good as dead if they left him here, even if he was an extremely talented fighter.

He got up. "Gilbert, I need you to come with us. Grab the tea pot, anything you can carry on your back, and meet me outside."

"Vat? Vhy?"

Matthew pushed back his blonde hair. "There's a war going on in the outside world, and I happen to be travelling with the most wanted man in the world. The people hunting us, the Fire Nation, wiped out the people who lived here 100 years ago. If they find you here, you're as good as dead."

"Dead? Zhey can't kill me like a human. I'm a nation."

"We don't know if that holds up here. Can't you feel it? We're disconnected from our countries. My regeneration is much slower than before. I feel cold quicker. I get tired easily. Famished, too. I think I'm becoming human, and if that's true, we can't afford to die here."

Gil considered this.

"Okay. Go! I'll meet you in exactly 10 minutes!" He commanded. Matthew smiled.

"Thanks Gil."

Gilbert nodded, serious. "You're velcome. Get going!"

Matthew nodded back and ran up the stairs towards the surface.

He ran back to Katara, Sokka, and Aang. Aang was sleeping in Katara's arms, and Sokka was pacing, muttering to himself.

"I'm back!" Matthew announced, breathing hard. Damn, he was even getting winded easily.

Katara looked up and scanned him. "Where's the water? Why did you take so long?"

Matthew held up a finger, hoping she knew that sign meant "give me a moment." He still needed to catch his breath. He exhaled deeply and answered her.

"A friend's bringing it. He's been living here for several months."

"A friend?" Sokka inquired, finally coming back to Earth. "How do you know him?"

He chuckled. "He's known me ever since I was little. Name's Gilbert."

"Again, you and your weirdly named friends. First Matthew, then Arfled,"

"Alfred." Matthew corrected.

"Alfred, and now this Gilbert guy."

Matthew shrugged. "Its a Western naming system. Your names are sorta odd to me."

"Anyways." Katara interrupted. "He's bringing water?"

"Yeah. It'll be warm, but that'll probably be good for Aang. Warm up his core."

She looked between Matthew and Aang. "I'm assuming your other friend isn't another crazy Firebender?"

Wow.

He was expecting that sort of comment from Sokka.

Not Katara.

It hurt.

"No...He's an Airbender."

_"AN AVESOME AIRBENDER!"_ Gilbert yelled from above. He landed softly on the ground, dispersing most of the impact force in a tactful roll. Katara and Sokka both screamed. Gilbert managed to do this feat with a backpack on and a teapot in his hand.

Matthew couldn't help but be impressed.

"Guys, meet Gilbert. _Gilbert, meet the Gaang."_

Gilbert dusted himself off and handed the teapot to Matthew. _"Zhere you go. Hallo! I am Gilbert!"_

Matthew translated. "He says hello." He knelt beside Aang and lifted the teapot. He gently poured water into Aang's mouth, willing the water to cool as it passed his fingertips.

Katara didn't watch. She was staring at Gilbert. He was staring back.

_"Zhese kids look Inuit. Are zhey?"_

_"Nope. In this world, they're from a place called the Southern Water Tribe."_

"Matthew, can you please include us in the conversation?" Katara interrupted.

"If I try hard, I can pick out a few words that sound familiar. Dunno what they mean." Sokka commented.

"Thanks for helping." She replied dryly.

Matthew half paid attention to the children, focused on helping Aang. The boy's skin was cold, but his pulse was a nice, steady 83 bpm. He showed no signs of fever, only the slowed effects of fainting. Matthew took off his coat and wrapped it around Aang. He nearly regretted it from the immediate wind chill that seeped into his bones, but keeping Aang warm was more important.

_"Help me carry him to the front of the temple." _He instructed Gilbert. The Prussian smirked.

_"I don't need to help you. I didn't earn weightlifting championships for mein gut looks."_

Matthew rolled his eyes and handed him the 12 year old. "Fine. Meet you there." He said with a smile.

Gilbert held Aang bridal style and concentrated, sending a burst of air from his feet and hopping unnaturally tall heights to the front of the temple.

Everyone stared.

"Okay. So he's an Airbender?" Katara asked after a pause.

"Yep. He's an Airbender." Matthew confirmed.

"So that settles it?" Sokka mumbled.

"I think so."

The siblings shared a look and nodded in a silent agreement.

"We should go meet them, huh?"

Katara laughed. "Yeah, I think so."

* * *

She was cold, wet, and filthy. Her once beautiful hair hung in clumps around her face, knotted and tangled with everything from sludge to rocks. Her dress was torn and equally as filthy, all the vibrant colors now brownish and muted. She hadn't felt this horrible in decades.

She leaned against the wall of the tunnel, not caring about the dirt that crumbled into her hair and dress when she touched the wall. She took in several deep breaths, trying to keep herself awake. Her stomach moaned for any source of nutrition.

There had to be an end to this tunnel. There had to be.

She closed her eyes and tried to think positive. At least she didn't have to cut off her hair. Or endure physical torture. Heck, she didn't even have to attend a world meeting.

She laughed at that. The sound was hollow and filled with despair, a shallow attempt to feel mirth.

She was rewarded with the feeling of loneliness only growing.

There has to be an end to this tunnel. There has to be.

She gripped the earthen walls, dirty and torn nails digging into the soft earth, and stood shakily. She had to continue. She needed to get back.

Then she heard the rustling. The scratches that made her skin crawl. She was once a warrior, but just the mere idea of what was coming towards her made her want to cry. She'd seen the creatures that lived in these tunnels. She was defenseless. They were not, with their long ragged claws and sharpened teeth.

She tried to run, but her legs would not work.

And suddenly, she was immersed in fear as the creature came from behind.

There would never be an end to this tunnel, would there?

* * *

Matthew's POV

To say the ride out of there was pleasant would be a lie. Gilbert lost his shit when he saw Appa, the siblings bombarded Matthew and him with questions, and Aang was...well, Aang was okay.

The way they acted around Gilbert reminded Matthew of how they treated him when he was first found. The big movements, slowed words, and exaggerated faces all were familiar. Gilbert was killing himself laughing with commentary Matthew was glad the kids couldn't understand.

Therefore, Matthew had taken it upon himself to be the responsible one. He sat on Appa's head, gripped the reins, and muttered "Yip-yip." The sky bison lifted into the air and once again, Gilbert lost his shit.

Matthew kept quiet and piloted Appa smoothly. Aang was still asleep, but luckily Matthew could tell it was actually sleep and not being passed out. He didn't know where they were headed, but he'd let Aang decide in the morning. The kid needed sleep.

_"So zhey don't understand any of zhis?" _Gilbert asked after a sizable chunk of silence.

_"Nope."_

_"So...I can say anything I vant?"_

_"I guess? I mean, Sokka's learning English pretty quickly for someone who didn't know there was such a thing as other languages."_

Gilbert paused and switched to German, his native tongue. Matthew wasn't terrible at the language, no, he was fluent, but he said some of the words with a heavy accent.

_"But he doesn't know German, correct?"_

Matthew smiled. _"No, Prussia, he doesn't."_

The German smiled back. _"Well, Canada, I'm assuming zhey don't know about our real names?"_

_"I mean, how could I even start? So much about me is already different, like the color of my hair, my eye color, my native language, that throwing something people, who are used to the other things I said, freak out at...it doesn't seem smart."_

Gilbert considered this, staring at the clouds whizzing by beneath him. _"Ja, I guess so."_ He said finally.

_"They're good kids Gil. It's been centuries since I just lived. No conferences in Ottawa, no international conflicts, just acting and living like a human. And they've accepted me."_

Gilbert tore his eyes away from their surroundings and stared directly at Matthew. His red eyes were serious. _"Do not forget who you are. You are not human. You are not the same. Not matter how much you want it to be, it doesn't happen. Your country has to die for you to become human, and you can't let that happen."_

He pulled himself away. _"That's all. So...vhere are we going?"_

Wow. Leave it to Gilbert to be serious at the weirdest times. In the middle of the battlefield he'd make some crude joke, but while they were peacefully flying above the ocean he'd talk about mortality. Matthew didn't know how to react to it. Any of it.

_"I don't know. Just kinda roaming, I guess. When Aang wakes we'll know."_

Gilbert sighed and propped his feet up on the saddle. "So...how're zhe provinces?"

Classic small talk. Matthew grinned. _"Well, I haven't seen them in a year or so, but last I checked Ontario and Quebec were still fighting. And PEI and Alberta were planning to dunk Malaysia into a vat of bacon grease. Dunno if it worked out."_

_"What about zhe Yukon? She still won't talk to you?"_

Oh boy, was Yukon fun to deal with. _"She's as cold to me as her weather. I think the only one she'll talk to is Alaska. Not even the Territories."_

Gilbert laughed. _"You should've seen Holy Rome try to reign in every duchy and principality in his territory. Boy am I glad I didn't have to listen to his nagging."_

Both looked at each other and laughed some more. It was infectious, because soon tears were rolling down Matthew's cheeks and Gilbert could barely say a word.

Aang woke up eventually from the ruckus they were making, with Katara and Sokka soon following suit. The kid groaned and took several minutes to acclimate to his surroundings, blinking often and repeating the same questions sleepily.

"Aang, are you okay?" Matthew switched to the native language.

"I...I uh...Where are we?"

"On Appa. Sorry Aang, but we had to leave the temple." Katara filled him in.

"Yeah. And we picked up a guy weirder looking than Mattie." Sokka chimed in. He got glares from both Katara and Matthew in return.

Matthew decided to let it go. Gilbert had suffered many more insults much worse than that. Plus, Sokka was kinda in the right. Kinda.

"His name is Gilbert. And Aang?"

The kid blinked. "Yes?"

Matthew exhaled. "Gilbert's an Airbender."

Gilbert waved upon hearing his name. Aang stared at the albino, waved back faintly, and gaped, mouth wide open.

_"Vhy is he staring?" _

_"He thought he was the only Airbender until now."_

Aang finally found his words. "What are they saying?" he whispered loudly.

"I don't know. Its in English. Speaking too fast." Sokka "whispered" back.

_"Ohhhhh. Okay. How do I say Hello in their language?"_

"Hello."

Gilbert tried it out. "Hello. _Sounds Cantonese._ Hello?"

Matthew nodded. "Yeah, like that. Anyways, yeah, guys, this is Gilbert. He's...from my village."

The siblings shared a look. Aang kept his gaze on Gilbert, but moved onto Appa's head to steer him wherever he wanted.

"You've never told us the name of your village." Sokka said calmly. Matthew tried to read the boy for any emotion, but for the first time since he'd met the boy, he couldn't tell.

"It's a village called Jianada. It's north, and near the water. We're hidden by the mountains. Everyone, or almost everyone, has hair and eyes like me. Alfred's from there too."

He watched Gilbert was having fun throwing bursts of air at the clouds passing by and watching them disperse. Still the same.

Aang looked back. "So...if your friend-"

"-Gilbert," Matthew supplied.

"Gilbert is from your village, and you and your brother are too, then...you have every type of bender there?"

A lump formed in his throat. Everyone else-all his friends and family-were they all here too? Hidden in this world? Or were they the only ones? He didn't know how to answer. He had no idea what he'd say. Until it came to him.

"I don't know, I discovered I could Waterbend when I was with you."

"And you were found frozen in the ice, like Aang."

"What if...Matthew, we don't know how long you were in the ice. And your brother is still the same age as you. So...is it possible, hear me out, that something happened to the people in your village that made them all end up where they did? I mean, come on, your brother joined the Fire Nation."

Matthew pulled his jacket on tighter. "I don't know."

Katara leaned in. Matthew could smell her foul breath from here, and suspected his own wasn't much better. "What if...you guys weren't regular people? I mean, I've never heard of people with hair the color of the sun or snow. Not if they're young."

Gilbert looked at Matthew. "_You look uncomfortable._"

Matthew shook his head, at all of it. "_Stop_!" He cried. He couldn't explain the rush of emotions that came to him. How loud his voice sounded.

"I...I don't know. I...everything's been so confusing since I arrived. Who I am as a person, why I was brought to you...I've been thinking about it almost daily. And I-" He looked at Gilbert. His heart hurt. Why...why couldn't he have Al with him instead?

"-I just want to go home. Back to the _maples_, and _Niagara Falls_, and _poutine_! To crazy cold weather and _hockey_ and making fun of _Don Cherry's bizarre suits_. All of it!"

Gilbert patted him on back and put a small, weighted object in his hands. Matthew looked down and laughed, just a little.

Gilbird Zwei.

Oh, how he missed Kumaguri.

* * *

Hey Everyone! God, I am so sorry for going AWOL in the past...month? Weeks? I've gone through some hard times academically, but hey, I'm alive and here to give you a chapter since I couldn't guilt myself into prolonging your waiting nay more. So I hope you enjoyed. Every one of your reviews have made me smile, and even though I'm sure you're seen this written from other fanfic writers, every bit of support you send pushes me onwards. I aim to actually finish this fic, whether it kills me or not.

Again, I am seeking a beta reader. My old ones keep leaving me :(

A special thanks to those who took time out of their day to write me a review:

Twashcat360

Thorn235

Felynx

beepachu

Curious-Souls

Narniaisinmycloset

Elements08

Matthew W. Kirkland

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Tinhatflash53

So

Sakuragane_San

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You guys mean so much to me!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: See the bottom for author's notes :)

She coughed again. Her trachea shuddered with every breath, rattling against her frail frame. Her body shook from exhaustion and malnutrition, the stick-thin fingers that used to hold blades skillfully clutching at the walls, trying to keep the body up. She couldn't even feel hunger anymore, for pain was spread throughout her whole body. She wouldn't make it. She'd never see the sun again.

The creature from earlier had passed by, sniffing at her with its large, wet, smelly nose brushing against the remaining scraps of her dress. She'd sat against the wall, petrified, praying to any God there was for a chance just to see the sun one last time. To breathe dry, warm air instead of the cool moist air that she'd lived off of for weeks. She wanted to live. Just a little longer. Just enough to say goodbye.

And the creature had passed. It left her alone, perhaps thinking she was too weak to run away. Perhaps to come back later, with friends. She didn't have the energy to run, but she'd be damned to hell if she didn't try. So she climbed back up, and using the wall, continued on her way. Thankfully she had no broken bones, but she could feel her body was not taking the environment well. At this rate, either the creature, malnutrition, or a disease like pneumonia would claim her life.

She coughed again. Her chest heaved with the effort to keep breathing. She had to keep going. She wouldn't rest. She would not give up.

She couldn't.

Guided only by the echoing sounds of water dripping and the feel of the dirt tunnels, she walked. And walked. And walked. God, how she missed cars. Subways. Heck, even a bicycle she'd be grateful for.

She had to keep going.

* * *

It was 2 days after the creature when she heard something. A soft thud, like a rock rolling down onto the ground. But the walls...

She didn't know how to describe it.

It was like the earth itself was brimming with energy, excitedly awaiting whatever was to come.

Was it another Creature? The same type?

Or was it perhaps a person?

She couldn't see any light, but she'd rather take any chance than run away. Maybe, oh maybe, was this the end.

"_Hello?_" She meant for it to be a call, reflecting how scared and desperate she was. But it came as a whisper, barely reaching her own ears.

But she heard a shuffle. A step. Something. She had to try again. "_Hello?_"

She stopped and waited. Would the thing respond? Would it run away?

"Achoo!"

She fell back from pure shock. A sneeze! A human sounding sneeze!

She clambered back up and hobbled over to the sneezer. "Hello? Do you understand me?" Her voice was stronger now, above a whisper and near regular talking volume. Her throat ached. Her limbs felt so heavy and clumsy.

She didn't even realize when she bumped into something 2/3 her height.

Both of them, the sneezer and her, yelped from surprise. The sneezer started speaking in her language-She was sure it was a girl with that voice-quickly and angrily. She stared at the sneezer, or rather, where the voice was coming from.

She couldn't understand her.

The girl eventually calmed down, and started speaking slowly. She couldn't understand her still. It was all a jumble of Asian sounds.

It was just her luck she found the only human down here and they didn't speak English or Hungarian, or German or any language she knew.

She reached out and felt through the air until her fingers landed on fabric. She ran her fingers down the fabric to the girl's hands. They were so soft and small. So delicate. She guided the girl's hand to her chest, and said simply,

"Elizabeta."

It was her name. She repeated it slowly. "Elizabeta."

The girl said nothing, but even as Elizabeta took her hand off of the girl's wrist, the girl kept her hand there. It was so warm. Everything in here was so, so cold. Elizabeta didn't mind. Not at all.

Several minutes later, the girl whispered something. She took Elizabeta's hand and put it on her on chest. Elizabeta could feel the girl's ribcage expand and contract as she drew in slow breaths. The girl said clearly,

"Topfh."

It sounded like the English word "Tough". Gilbert would get a laugh out of that, her meeting a girl named(almost) Tough.

Elizabeta smiled. Her face hurt from the action. She'd almost forgotten how it felt to smile. How it felt to laugh.

The girl seemed satisfied, and did the same as Elizabeta. "Eelizabetah."

Ah, to be with someone. Elizabeta had wished for escape, but a companion was the next best thing. The girl seemed to have a...an energy of strength that radiated off of her. The same energy she felt when she was with a member of the G8, or the few times where a remaining ancient showed their face.

But she was mortal. Elizabeta knew that as well. If she were a nation, empire, even a province or DMZ, Toph would've been able to speak any language Elizabeta knew.

Elizabeta guided Toph's hand up above her head and made her point her finger. "_Above?_" She hoped the girl would understand.

Toph didn't respond.

Elizabeta bit her lip. It wasn't gonna work.

Toph put down her hand and pushed Elizabeta away, saying something in her language. Elizabeta stumbled back. Did she do something insulting?

Toph stomped her foot, and the ground shook. Elizabeta sat on her bony bottom and watched with wide eyes as the ground split open above her. And there it was.

Light. Beautiful, warm light.

* * *

General POV

It was three months after the last world meeting. The nations had been searching with fervor in any time the had left over from their usual busy day to day life. More and more nations started disappearing. Chad, Argentina, Latvia. The count of missing nations was now at 9. Not too much compared to the 200+ nations in existence(not even counting provinces and micronations, but some of the missing countries were important to keeping the world afloat. Most obvious was America.

The nation's country was doing fine on its own, managed by England and several other UN countries, but the people were becoming tense. More violence broke out. Depression rates increased. Divorce numbers climbed. They couldn't hold it together forever. Eventually, America was going to crumble.

As for the search, no leads turned up. Even Tony, America's strange alien who possessed otherworldly knowledge, had no clue. Kumajiro, Gilbird, and several other pets were without their owners. Denmark had volunteered to take care of them in the nations' stead, to the displeasure of his fellow Nordics.

It was all falling apart. There was speculation from some of the nations that the missing nations had perished, that there would be a reincarnation they'd need to find. But the doubt across the international community was overwhelming.

Until Trudeau called up the UN and told them that a woman in Saskatchewan had found someone strikingly similar to Canada. Now, the entirety of the UN(and other nations)were seated around a table, waiting for the boy. The nervous energy was palpable. Were the missing nations simply missing? Reincarnated? If Trudeau didn't recognize Canada as _the_ Canada he worked with, could it just be a regular human?

The door creaked open, and the room stilled. Everyone's eyes darted to the entrance, where a tall, pale, blonde haired boy stood. He was wearing red and black plaid, and behind him was a moose.

"Hello? Is this the right room?" He asked. He was at ease, calm, but his voice was so deep. So loud. So...

Not Canada.

Belgium smiled. "Velcome! Are you..."

She checked the paper they'd all been given. This boy was named James Williams, or so he said. He was found wandering the woods in only a white tunic, despite the freezing cold. He knew English and French, and everything a Canadian should know, but when asked about his past, he would not give an answer.

"James?"

The boy nodded, slammed the door shut, and slid into the office chair nearest to him. The moose stood behind him, perfectly at ease.

Now it was time for the test. Only nations knew the language of the Earth. All could speak it naturally.

_"Do you understand me?" _Belgium asked. Everyone in the room was silent, watching.

James looked confused. "Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"

A shocked gasp flew across the room. He understood. He was a nation. He couldn't be Saskatchewan.

"I'm Canada. You guys are nations, right? Just like me?"

The room grew uncomfortable. They knew that James wasn't the original Canada, he couldn't be, but no one remembered what the original one was really like. What he looked like, what his alias was, even the way he spoke.

Switzerland broke the silence. "Yeah, we are."

Poland nodded. "Yeah, like, we're immortal and like, stuff. Totally weird, right?"

"Not really. Its kinda like breathing. I just...know, y'know."

The Canadian shrugged. "What happened to other me? Like, Justin said there was another me, but that he disappeared. Is he dead?"

He had to be, if James truly was Canada. There couldn't be two incarnations at once. The only exceptions were when provinces were originally separate and then conjoined, like Italy.

The old Canada was dead. But how?

* * *

It took weeks for everyone to adjust to James being Canada, but he somehow eventually just blended in. He was much more authoritative than the Original Canada, or as everyone was calling him, Maple, much louder, and much...manlier? James didn't hide like Maple had, but he gave his opinion. He tried to befriend nations he was allied with, and learn what Maple was like. He moved to Ottawa and bought an apartment. He just...he fit in.

Meanwhile, now nations were scrambling to find the reincarnations of the other nations. James was about 16, so a little younger than Maple had been before he passed, but he was still around the age of a nation when they reached a high globally. America, if dead, would be likely near James' age, and for the rest it would vary based off of economy, mostly.

The magic group kept trying to find them. England was almost obsessive over it, not sleeping for weeks while trying every spell he had. France was trying his best to try and befriend James, but everyone could tell he wasn't doing well either. China wasn't talking to anyone. Germany was staying with Italy, claiming his home was "too cold", despite it being spring.

Everything was off.

Denmark refused to give up Kumajiro to James, claiming Kumajiro would be offset by his owner being so different. Norway told everyone behind Denmark's back that it was because the Dane finally had a friend who would listen to his idiotic antics. Of course, he did say that with Gilbird on his hat.

James didn't mind. His moose, Marvin, was good enough company. He finished his paperwork in the night, and during the day traveled across the world. Lithuania was a pretty good friend too. He liked his personality.

James was grateful to be alive.

* * *

James' POV

James sat in the plane, tapping his finger rhythmically against the armrest. It was raining lightly outside, but the plane was flying smoothly. Today was March 13, 2017. It was only 2 weeks ago when he'd been found by Mrs. Lee, but how long ago was he born? He didn't really know.

He flipped through a book he'd found in the other Canada's old house. For the most part, he was leaving the cabin alone, but he couldn't help but look around. It was like a museum. He was afraid to touch anything, like make the Other Canada's bed or wash his dishes. To wash his old clothes. But he would read his books. He wanted to, so he could understand what his other self was like. Why he was such an enigma. Why no one remembered him.

The book was "The Giver". So far, it was good. He liked the protagonist, and the intrigue. Based off of the sheer amount literature in Other Canada's house, he could add one more thing to the list of things he knew about his past self.

Other Me:

-I was a he

-I was around 19 physically

-I was blonde, like now, but I had a baby face. And very pretty violet eyes, unlike my current boysenberry colored ones.

-My name used to be Matthew? Matthieu? Williams.

-I used to have a pet bear

-My favorite movie was Picnic at Hanging Rock(Watched it, I don't see why people like it so much)

-I was liked, but not well known

-Had a grudge with America?(Never met the guy)

-Bookworm.

It wasn't that great of a list, but it was something. The picture of his other self he'd gotten from Trudeau. He was smiling and standing with Trudeau when he was elected Prime Minister. He looked so happy. So innocent. Even though James was younger than other him, he felt like an older brother, in a weird way. He wanted to have been able to even just say, "Hi." to him before he died. To hear what he sounded like.

James wished he could.

So, James made it his personal mission to hunt down all the provinces and America. They seemed to be the closest to his Other Self. He was brand new to all this nationy stuff, but hey, if he knew what he used to be like, maybe it would make it more digestible.

He put down The Giver. He was thinking too much to focus on the words. He slipped it in his bag and pulled out his phone. His finger lingered over the screen of all the contact numbers the countries gave him when they first met.

Why did he want to call someone? Who would he call? Lithuania? He was probably busy, or getting ready for bed, knowing timezones.

Russia?

No. Probably just waking up, or asleep.

Mexico?

He didn't know them that well.

He jumped a bit when he realized the flight hostess was standing in front of him. How long had she been there?

She smiled at him politely. "Sir, would you like anything to drink?"

He said whatever came to mind first. "Coffee?"

She nodded and walked off. He went back to his phone, now snapped out of his stupor. Who was close to America, Old Canada, Prussia, Greece, Chad, Argentina, Latvia, and a few others he forgot?

For whatever reason, he dialed Serbia.

The phone picked up. "Y'ello?"

James smiled. "Hi, Serbia. Are you busy right now?"

He heard something heavy being put down on the other line. "Just replacing the boards on my windows. Never know when the draft can get you, so it's best to stay safe. What do you need?"

"I'm looking for America, Pru-"

"Why the fuck are you looking for that bastard?" Serbia demanded.

"America?"

He could almost feel Serbia's scowl. "Yeah, him."

"Because I...nevermind. Night Serbia!"

He ended the call. His face was red with embarrassment, or at least it felt that way. Stupid! Serbia and America were famous for conflict! How could he have forgotten?

He didn't feel like calling anyone after that, but his mind urged him to go on. How about someone...more western, for lack of a better word?

Ireland could work.

He dialed Ireland before his shame got to him. The nation picked up almost immediately.

"'owaya! Dis is Oirlan' speakin'."

James took a moment to process what he said. Damn, that accent was thick. He hoped he got used to it quickly.

"Hi, this is James. Canada? Yeah. Anyways, I'm looking for America, and Prussia, and yeah."

"Ah 'ey Canada! Glad ter clap you're puttin' me number ter use. Anyways, waaat chucker yer nade me for?" He was friendlier than Serbia on that matter, for sure. Canada felt it was safe to continue. Was he traditionally allies with Ireland? He was, now.

"Well, if you're not busy, would you mind looking for them with me?"

A pause. "Son, al' av us 'av been lookin' for months. You're de first lead. We be searchin' as fast as we can."

The hostess gave James his coffee and he sipped it. It was nice and warm, but bitter. He drank it anyways.

"But," James didn't know how to phrase this. "I need to find them. You don't understand. I wanna know who I am. Who I was."

"Well...that's understandable. But, we canny 'elp anymore than we already 'av. Sorry."

James nodded numbly. Of course. Why would he even bother help him in the first place? Their countries may be friends, but he didn't know anyone. France was...weird, England just always looked miserable when Justin passed by, and Lithuania?

Lithuania wasn't actually that bad. He was the nicest yet. He had taken James out for a drink the first day they'd met. But it didn't feel right pulling Lithuania into his mess. He'd find them alone, if he had to.

"That's alright. Night, Ireland."

"Goodnight."

* * *

Unknown POV

He'd been working at AMPM Convenience Store for 6 months. He'd been living on the streets for 6 months. He'd been attending high school for 6 months. He'd been wandering around, trying to understand why he was so different.

He could feel things, and he was pretty sure what he felt wasn't normal. He got sick randomly, then got better. He intuitively knew people's names, or at least most people. Foreigners didn't count.

He could cut his finger on paper one day, and the next day his skin would be perfect again.

He was not normal.

He couldn't remember who he was.

No name, no parents, no home, no tragedy that got him like this. He just woke up one day in San Francisco.

People called him Dylan. He didn't mind. It was the first name he heard after waking up. He'd seen a man dumpster diving, and his name popped into his head. Dylan Clarke. So that would be his name for now.

Dylan was not normal.

At school, he was reminded every day that colored contacts were not allowed. He flipped the dean off every day. At work, he had to be reminded what most people considered basic knowledge, like historical events. Like 9/11. What the hell was that?

Apparently something he should know.

Then again,

He was not normal.

* * *

Dylan's POV

January 20, 2017. The day of his World History essay on the French Revolution. While studying, it'd been so easy to imagine it happening. He could hear gunshots, smell the smoke. Everyone around him complained about the fact memorizing, but History was the only subject he was good at.

Well, that and theatre. He loved acting. Everyone there was friendlier, even the popular kids.

Back to history. He flipped through his flashcards, reviewed everything he'd written in his notes, and even hummed the cool French History rap he'd found on Youtube. The walk to school was just long enough for him to get through everything efficiently without being late.

He sat down in his seat, took out earbuds, and set his notes on the desk to study one last time before the test. He got an elbow in the ribs.

"Psst, Dylan. What's the essay on?"

Hailey Jones, a peppy girl with an extensive knowledge on civil rights and for some reason, agriculture. She was not, however, good at all with school.

"French Revolution. How did you not know this?" He whispered back. "We've been covering this subject for weeks!"

The blonde twirled her hair around her finger. "Meh. Guess I'll wing it."

Dylan wanted to(theoretically) strangle her for being so unprepared. "Do you at least want me to try and give you the spark notes version?"

She gave a snort as the teacher came into the class. "Like, even if I would, doesn't matter now."

Mrs. Esperanza cleared her throat. "Ehem. Clear your desks please. Get out either a blue or black pen and wait patiently for me to pass out your tests. Do not flip them over until I say so. You will have 50 minutes to completely this exam."

Dylan shoved his bag under his desk and did as he was told. Soon, he was writing as fast as he could, trying to form a cohesive argument within the limited time frame. When his pen ran out, he simply switched to another one. Fact after fact was put into the essay carefully, blending words to sound as persuasive as he could make it.

It was hard, but it worked. He set his pen down and skimmed what he'd wrote, making sure everything was spelled correctly.

It was good!

Not perfect, of course, but good for what time he had. He checked the clock. 6 minutes left. Not enough time to try for anything else. He leaned back and exhaled. Beside him, Hailey was sleeping. Her test wasn't even touched.

Dylan supposed that some people just couldn't be bothered.

The teacher came by and collected their tests swiftly and efficiently just as the clock hit 9. She smiled. "Have a nice day."

A few students sleepily mumbled the same thing back, but most just blankly nodded and shuffled off to the next class. Dylan elbowed Hailey, who was still asleep.

"Psst. Hailey! Class is over."

She looked up, her brown eyes unfocused. "Huh?"

Dylan rolled his eyes and grabbed her by the sweater. "Come on, or we'll be late to Chem."

Hailey rolled her eyes and scooped up her belongings. "I was in the middle of a good nap." She groused.

The duo went straight through the halls, rushing to the other side of the school. Dylan kept his pace so he'd be with Hailey, although they would probably be late either way. He didn't exactly know why he hung out with her, since she was almost the complete opposite of him, but they were both unpopular and that really makes people bond together.

As they approached their final destination, Dylan could see Dr. Cho closing the door. He sprinted forward and shoved his foot in the door before it could completely close.

"You're late."

He smiled. "Nope! Door hasn't closed yet."

Dylan allowed Hailey to follow him inside, and he mentally laughed as Dr. Cho marked them down as on time.

* * *

Elizabeta's POV

The light was so warm. It was magical, with its soft yellowed glow drenching her in hope and warmth. The fresh air kept filling her lungs, unable to have enough. She could see. She was alive.

There was an end, wasn't there?

But Toph broke her out of her stupor. The girl beside him looked up and started muttering, but like every other time Elizabeta tried to translate, she couldn't understand.

She wished she could understand. Maybe Toph was just as amazed, but she doubted it. The girl looked...annoyed? Scared? Her eyes stared blankly upwards. Elizabeta couldn't, no, didn't want to know how she looked. Her companion was short, probably 8 or 9. Her hair was jet black and held up by beautiful jade pins, and her dress looked like a dress China would make Taiwan would wear. She was Asian, for sure. Eastern from her features.

And her eyes. Toph's eyes were a pale green, bordering on milky white. Like her jade hairpin in color. And with a shock, Elizabeta realized the girl was blind.

Yet, the way she held herself made Elizabeta suspect maybe she wasn't totally blind. Poor vision for sure, but her eyes definitely moved like a seeing person's.

Toph stomped her foot, and the ground rose. It shook and lifted them upwards, towards the sky. Towards freedom. Elizabeta couldn't process what was going on, and honestly she didn't want to.

They rose to the top and the ground closed up beneath them, the dirt turning to smooth tile. Toph moved her hands and the dirt flew off of her, leaving everything spotless. Around them was a room, large and ornate, decorated with treasures that reminded Elizabeta deeply of when she used to live with the royal family.

She felt hesistant to move, but Toph grabbed her hand. Suddenly, the girl yelled out, her voice no longer as strong and assertive as it was underground. It sounded scared. Weak.

The bedroom door flew open and two people ran in. Toph started speaking to them, gesturing to Elizabeta and speaking rapidly. She couldn't catch any of it, but the guards had looked her over several times in that brief moment.

Toph let go of Elizabeta and handed her to the guards. Elizabeta's heart rate quickened. What was going on? Was Toph going to get her in jail? Killed?

The guards hoisted Elizabeta and slung her over their shoulders. As soon as she made eye contact with Toph, she saw what the girl was saying.

A hand over the mouth and a shake. Don't speak.

But why?

What was going on?

* * *

Hi everyone! Me again!

So, no beta reader yet, but that's fine. Just send me a DM and I'll hook you up. In the meanwhile, my little sister's reading for me(despite not caring for either fandom lol). Anyways, I may have to delay next chapter by a few days if an appointment I have tomorrow doesn't go well. But, fear not, I will have it done in less than two weeks.

I love y'all's feedback and wish I could hug every single one of you who have given my support. Honestly. I've been going through a rough patch in my life and writing is one of the only ways I can vent. So when I get a review, it automatically brightens my day. I think I've reloaded the Ao3 page and my email at least 8 times a day since last week.

Well, anyways, enough of me. My friend's server is still up, and she'd love if you joined. It recently just got another activity spike, so she'd love if you joined.

Have a lovely week!

Msperfectsheep


	8. Chapter 8

Matthew's POV

It was in the dead of night when Matthew felt his immortality fade completely. It was like a shiver passed through his body, stealing away everything that had kept him alive until now. He could barely describe it, but if you could combine the feeling of goosebumps with a warmth just a bit too warm to be comfortable, it be around there. And when it passed, his body was left in pain. Oh, so much pain. Everywhere he'd been wounded before screamed all at one. And while the wounds were not there, he could feel the warm trickle of blood running down his skin.

His eyes flew open, and he screamed. Everything hurt. Muscles tearing, blood flowing, skin ripping. All of it. He could feel it all. Several centuries' worth of injuries.

He was scared. Terrified. He knew, deep down, that there was no going back. Niko Niko gave up his immortality willingly, and he could never go back. Matthew shook Gilbert awake, rousing him.

The albino sleepily groaned in German and rolled back over. Matthew's heart stopped.

He couldn't understand what Gilbert said.

He tried to speak anything, anything at all. French? He tried it out. No. No French. English? Yes, English worked.

Latin? Spanish? Arabic? Igbo? No.

He was human. Completely and utterly human. He felt no connection to his land, no connection to his people. He couldn't speak the languages of nations.

Matthew-could he even go by the name Canada anymore?-curled into a ball. He just wanted the pain to be over. Tears streamed down his icily cold face. He was older than any human, but he was now shoved into the body of a teen. With all the hormones and confusion as a bonus package.

Aang must've been awake, because the monk turned from his spot on top of Appa's head and climbed down to Matthew. He sat beside the Former Nation and ran his hand over Matthew's back, muttering a rhythmic poem lowly.

Matthew hiccuped, probably for the first time in his life, and burrowed into his arms further. But Aang continued on, soothing Matthew. Around them, everyone was asleep. Only the moon was there to guide them.

He just let everything out. 200 years ago, this would've been frowned upon and he would've held it back, but he was alone in the sky. It was okay to be scared.

He was lost, with nowhere to go. Was Alfred suffering the same fate?

Aang stayed with him through it all. The boy he barely knew was sitting with him through probably the most shocking thing he'd been through in 50 years. Maybe 100.

Aang paused and waited a moment after almost an hour of consistent humming. "Are you alright?"

Matthew didn't want to poke his head out of his arms, but guilt forced his hand. "No."

"Oh." Aang shifted closer to Matthew, and his warmth was so comforting in the frigid cold of the night.

"Look, I..." Matthew wiped his tears with his hand. There was no point in withholding this information anymore. "I'm not, or I wasn't...I wasn't normal."

"What do you mean?"

He put his glasses on and just looked at the sky. "See, you and I have both been alienated from our time. I was born over half a millennia ago, in a land called Canada. That's also my name, or it was."

Aang blinked a few times. "I don't under-"

"-My brother and I are not human. We're immortals, creatures created from earth to represent the very land our people live on. If I was born in your world, I'd probably be called the Southern Water Tribe, look like the people, and live with them however long they existed for."

The boy was silent, taking it all in. His gaze turned from Matthew to the same sky. "So you're older than me?"

"I guess I am."

"Is that why you haven't changed since you met Katara? Or why you didn't die in the ice?"

Matthew's head whipped around. "What?"

"Katara talk a lot when everyone else is sleeping. And she's noticed that in the time she's known you, your face hasn't changed at all. No facial hair or hair growth, no acne, nothing. She thought it may be just because you're not Water Tribe. And I survived the iceberg because I'm the avatar, but a normal person would've died."

Oh. That made sense. It was only a matter of time before people started noticing his lack of aging.

"Yeah, that's probably why."

Aang gave Matthew a hug, wrapping his arms around the taller boy's chest. "Its okay. Now we're both weird."

"Aang, that's the thing... I'm not a nation anymore. I'm crying because, because, I've been away from my own world too long. I'm human now."

"Is your world the spirit world?"

The spirit world? What was his equivalent? Heaven?

"No?"

"Oh." Aang let go of Matthew and went back to his side. "Well, maybe I can ask the spirits for you. Sometimes when I'm in the spirit world, I hear things. We'll get you home Mattie. I promise."

I promise.

Aang could never comprehend how much those words meant to Matthew.

* * *

Unknown POV

_"Oh my god. I'm in the world of Avatar!"_

A person watched from behind a hut, crouched low enough for no one to see them. Her green eyes reflected the light of the rising sun, but that wasn't what she was looking at. It was a man Firebending.

She shifted and waited to wake up from this dream, eyes drawn to the beautiful arch of gold and red made from a swipe of the hand. But the scent of dust lingering in her nose and the heat from the sun was proof enough(sensory wise).

She was in a world(or very realistic dream) that was originally animated. A fictional place, just like her own world. She was just as real as these characters.

She could barely contain her excitement. How amazing it was! Was she a Firebender too? Was it Legend of Korra, Avatar, or sometime else?

Was this where the other victims of the went? Prussia, Hungary, Taiwan?

She stood up, hoping the Firebender would see her. How they treated her was the first clue about everything.

The villager looked in her direction and the fire spluttered out. She waved tentatively, watching. She supposed she looked pretty weird, with her black ACDC tee and grey ripped leggings, but hey, no going back now.

The villager gaped and spoke. She pulled apart their words, piecing it together like a collage.

The Nepalese word for What. The word in Bahasa for Are and Here. And the Khmer word for Doing. Mandarin for You.

What are you doing here?

More words. Mandarin for You again. Russian for Who? And Bahasa for Are.

Who are you?

How could she answer back? This language was a mess. It made no sense. And it wasn't English like the show had been written in.

But...maybe it was? If she just gave in to it, believed it was English, maybe her brain would interpret it as such.

"I'm Lucia. Nice to meet you."

The villager's eyes narrowed, but next time he spoke, it made perfect sense. "I'm Apinya. Pleasure to meet you."

Lucia could only grin.

* * *

James' POV

James had decided to go from the northwestern-most part of the US and work his way down and up until he reached Maine. He'd visit every city, every backwater town, until he found America. Heck, he'd even go to Hawaii and Alaska if needed. But Washington was first.

He'd flown into William R. Fairchild International airport at approximately 12:37 PM and was met by the Representation of Washington himself as he walked out of the plane.

He hoped they would get along.

"Hi."

Washington raised an eyebrow from behind his aviator sunglasses. "Hi yourself. James, right? I'm Liam Jones."

James shook the state's hand. "Thanks for helping me."

"Eh, don't worry about it." Liam waved his hand dismissively. "Johnny and Mary Ann have been going nuts the past few months, but hopefully we'll find Al before we enter Civil War 2: Electric Boogaloo."

"Excuse me?"

The state laughed and patted James on the back. "Basically, we're glad someone's helping us look for Al."

"Oh. Well, yeah. He's technically my brother, right?"

They walked together out of the airport and to a pale green Subaru parked outside. It was decked out with a bike rack and too many bumper stickers to count. James slid into the front seat, grimacing as his head brushed the top of the car. Too cramped. This car was too small.

But it'd be rude to say that. He'd just hold his peace.

Liam sat next to him and soon, they were off. While James stared out the window at the States, Liam kept his eyes on the road and led them through the streets.

"Okay, so, you got questions?"

James tore his eyes away from the foliage and instead looked at the floor of the car. The amount of things on the floor was impressive. "Not really. Um, how does it feel to be confused with DC all the time?"

"Annoying, but you get used to it. Just always introduce myself as Liam or Washington State. Plus, DC's just a know-it-all. No personality, unlike me."

"Hm." He tried to think of another question. "Uh, has anyone thought that they've found Al-merica?"

They veered sharply to the left and James gave a small yelp. Liam smiled wickedly, but only in passing. "Uh, Cali thinks she's got em, but she's Cali. Sent a photo of him yesterday and let me tell ya, that isn't Al." He shoved his phone at James, and the Canadian looked at the screen. It was a girl taking a selfie with a boy. Both looked to be in high school. The boy was taller than her, and filthier too. He was probably Hispanic, or at least partially, from the color of his hair and skin. But his eyes were as red as a ruby.

He was like the opposite of the photos he'd seen. The America he'd seen was basically a Chris Evans lookalike, but younger.

"This isn't him, right?"

"I mean, that's NorCal, no doubt, but that boy isn't America. But Cali keeps saying he is and its driving me bonkers."

Another sharp turn, and suddenly they were in the woods. How quickly did they leave the city? Weren't they going to investigate for America?

"Oh. Um, why aren't we searching the city?"

Washington shrugged. "Its like a ping when Al enters out states. We just know he's there. He's not in my state. So I'm driving ya to Oregon. You're her problem now."

"Oh. So I could've just asked all the states if they've felt him?"

"I guess, but some of us are real hermits. Like Wyoming. Why she doesn't even own a car, I don't know. She rides her horse everywhere. I think Idaho forgot to tell her the 1800s ended."

"So I should be heading to California right now? Maybe she felt the ping, but is confusing it with someone else." He wished he had a notepad. He felt so stupid next to Washington. The state knew so much more than him, and he felt like an idiot. He thought he'd known enough to do this, but no, he was already lost less than an hour into his trip.

"Probably. Sounds like something she'd do. Ever since legalization she's been ditzier than usual."

And that ended the conversation. As they drove through Washington, the sky darkened, the weather turned from clear to pouring rain, and the air grew cooler. Liam drove effortlessly through the slick conditions, obviously used to it. James eventually passed out from sheer exhaustion, and the rest of the trip was a blur. He spent it all in a dream.

* * *

He was asleep, he knew that, but what dream would come to him? He was climbing a icy mountain. All around him was pure white and sea, pure powerful cliffs towering over the waves. He wasn't cold, but that was most likely due to the warm clothes he was wearing. His mittened hands gripped at any ledge they could find as he went higher and higher, climbing even though he didn't know why. Flurries of snow brushed his skin, but the wind wasn't harsh enough to sway him.

He thought of just digging into the snow and making a little alcove to lay in, just to momentarily catch his breath, but it would be for naught. It was a dream, right? Exhaustion was all in the mind.

Beneath him he heard laughter. Screams of delight. He wanted to look down, but his gut told him no. The height might scare him, make him fall.

But then again, it was a dream. Self-preservation was completely different.

He looked down.

His stomach twisted and his head ached. His eyes swam and his nose began to run. Everything in his body began to react violently to seemingly nothing. The pain started small, growing worse and worse the longer his eyes lingered. He had to keep tearing them away just to stay on the mountain.

But he wanted to keep looking. Because the people beneath him...one of them gave off energy. It felt stupid, phrasing it like that, but it was true. One of these people were like him. A nation. But weirdly, the energy was faded. It wasn't a strong ping like what he got from England or Russia, but muted like Washington's. Maybe even less.

Possibly a county? He didn't know personifications got that small, but anything was possible. Or a micronation!

His stomach lurched, and he turned his head away to catch himself. Breathe.

He wanted so desperately to slide down and see them, ask who they were, but his mind kept urging for him to simply climb higher and higher. It refused to let him do what he wanted. Weren't dreams supposed to bend to the mind of the dreamer?

His body disagreed. He climbed higher and higher, going far past the point where the air got thin. The sounds of the people grew softer and softer until the wind's howl overtook it entirely. And then, in a brief moment of control, he let go. He let himself fall towards the snow, wind ripping at his clothes and skin as he plummeted, going faster and faster towards an unknown ending.

And then he woke up.

* * *

Alfred's POV

It was spring when his eyesight returned.

The fleet of ships had been sailing for a few weeks since their last stop, and Alfred was getting used to being cooped up. His firebending skills had been steadily getting better, but nowhere near a combative level. Nowhere near what it'd been on the last day he'd seen Matthew.

He wanted to just be able to laugh. To pun, watch a movie, play a game of football. Drink soda and eat foods like potatoes and beef. Listen to John Mellencamp and Big Time Rush.

He wanted to be American. Everything that defined him.

But no, apparently he was destined to sit on a ship yelling at an angsty royal and using chopsticks for several months.

He was sick and tired of it all.

But he went along with it. Patience brought forth good graces, or so he'd been told. Some things were worth the wait. He just had to stick it out. Be inconspicuous. He went to bed every night repeating that mantra, and did the same as he rose every dawn.

But this morning was different.

As he sat up and stretched, his eyes felt refreshed. Relaxed. Light slipped through his eyelids, giving a warm reddish tint to what he saw.

His vision returned. He opened his eyes, excited to be normal again, but was let down. Yes, it technically had returned, but his sight was blurry in one eye and barely any better in his other eye. There were blobs of color, but everything was fuzzy.

He felt around for his glasses impulsively, yet internally, he knew they weren't there. He'd hidden them away, with Zuko's help.

Hey, being partially blind was better than completely.

Alfred smiled tiredly. Something good finally happened.

* * *

"Zuko! Hey, Zuko!"

Once he'd successfully dressed himself, Alfred walked around the ship. His concept of the native tongue, which frustratingly didn't have a name since it was apparently the only language that existed, had gotten much better after the incident. Being forced to rely on hearing rather than watching and interpreting movements forced his to get better. And while his skills were nowhere near perfect, he was fluent enough to understand a lot.

A guard passed by, giving a slight nod. "Morning, Alfred."

He waved back. "Good morning Qin."

Qin turned and looked at him, or that's what he assumed. "...Where're you headed?"

The pause in his voice was evident, but Alfred brushed it off. "Canteen, I think. I am seeing for Zuko."

"Looking, Al, not seeing. But here, let me take you."

The young boy, only a bit older than Zuko, was mellow and quiet. Alfred liked him a lot, although he was more of a friend to rant to than one you play football with. Alfred followed the shape of his body and the sound of his steps through the hall.

"Hey, uh, Qin?"

"Yeah?"

"Why'd you join? The Fire Navy, I mean."

His companion was silent, the only sound coming from him being the sound of his boots. "Pa said I should. So I did. I had no chance getting into the Royal Court, and my scores in school were bad, so the military was the best choice."

Alfred exhaled. His tale was so much like many of the boys he'd met before. Revolutionary War, Civil, both World Wars, Vietnam, Korea, Afghanistan, all of it.

It was saddening, but it was true.

"Hey, at least I can count on the Fire Nation for having at least one decent fighter, am I right?" He laughed. Qin joined in.

"You're better at it than me. I think you're taller than the Fire Lord himself. And you're really strong."

"Yeah, well, I'm not really part of the Fire Nation, am I?"

Qin stopped. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, what do I mean? I'm obviously not part of whatever **ethnic**_ group_ that makes up the Fire Nation. I have hair that's _**blonde**_**,** _**blue**_eyes, and sharp features. I'm a mix of _**European**_ traits."

Qin turned to look at Alfred. The little blobs of black that made his eyes were directed right at Alfred. "You're a Firebender. Your ancestors came from a Fire Lion Turtle, therefore you're Fire Nation. Its in your blood."

"And what of those nonbenders? Where do they belong?"

"In their country, of course!"

Alfred scowled. "What if I couldn't Firebend? What would I be then? As far as I know, no one in this world looks anything like me. What would I be then? A person from Ash Island? I woke up there. My real home doesn't exist. Therefore, I'm not part of the Fire Nation."

"Yes you are. Stop being dumb."

"Stop taking everything your government feeds you as real. People lie. **Corruption** exists. I see everyone here has the same "We're the best mentality". Kill it. That level of **nationalism** leads to more death and destruction than you can handle."

Qin's face shifted, but Al couldn't tell what it changed to. The door beside them swung open. "Then _enlighten_ me."

"No."

Qin lightly punched Al in the stomach. "Why?"

"Because you won't be able to handle what I know. Even if you do believe me, which not even Zuko does."

"Yes I can! Alfred, what's worse than the horrors that happen to my fellow soldiers? Firebenders I was classmates with being shanked in the Earth Kingdom's streets."

Alfred laughed mirthlessly. "Imagine an entire city being wiped out in a second. A second one moments later. People of the same nationality, same family, turning weapons upon each other for beliefs. Innocent women and children tossed a room to be poisoned, and their bodies burnt until only ash remains. That's only a sliver of what I've seen."

Qin was silent. Had he gotten to him? Would he stop pressing?

"You're lying."

Damnit.

"That's impossible. I've learned the world's history starting from when Fire Lord Sozin was born, long before either of us were born, and nothing like you've described has happened. You're lying. You can find your way to the canteen from here by yourself." He walked off.

"I wish I was."

* * *

**_**A little shorter than usual, but this week has been hectic. I'll try to give a bonus chapter this weekend, so stay sharp!**_**


	9. Chapter 9

Matthew's POV

Matthew was asleep when they landed. His body had been overcome with exhaustion the moment he closed his eyes, and according to the siblings, he'd been asleep for over 3 days. Everything still ached and screamed every time he moved. Not even Gilbert's massage worked, and usually it always worked. He'd been clutching Gilbird Zwei close to his heart, massaging the bean bag between is frail fingers.

He was so hungry. So thirsty.

His eyes barely registered the light of the morning sun. Was this how the people around his felt all the time? Everything was so tense.

Gilbert had been trying to communicate with Matthew, but on every attempt all the albino got in return was blank stares. How did he forget German? It was a language he used all the time, a crucial skill he had back in WW2. Gilbert was understandable when he spoke English, and the two agreed that would be their primary way of communicating.

It was Gilbert who stayed behind with Matthew as the others, the people who belonged in this world, explored. Apparently, it was an island, but Gilbert didn't know the name. They were parked on a cove, and while Gilbert claimed they'd been playing there earlier, the kids were nowhere to be seen.

Matthew tried to sit up, but his back refused to listen. Sweat trailed down his skin.

It was hot and muggy here, at least compared to the South Pole. It was warm like spring in Melbourne. Matthew could tell, not even by looking, that Gilbert was just as sweaty.

_"Hey, can you help me up?"_

Gilbert offered his hand and together they made Matthew stand up. His body begged to continue laying down, just to close his eyes and sleep some more, but he couldn't. Matthew pushed forward and slid off of Appa.

_"It's a nice island."_

_"Ja. It iz."_ Gilbert muttered something in German as he peered around. Matthew looked the same way.

_"What is it?"_

Gilbert's eyes narrowed. _"Ve are being vatched."_

He tried to see what Gilbert did, but his eyes passed over everything and he couldn't spot anything wrong. His detection skills were either now terrible, or Gilbert was being paranoid.

Either was reasonable, but Matthew suspected he was the one with the faults.

_"What do you want to do?"_

_"Ve act normal. Zee vhat zhey vant."_

He could get behind that. Last thing he wanted to do was fight. He didn't know what he could do now, or if his body, in so much pain, could fight at all.

_"So where should we go?"_

His answer wasn't answered verbally, but physically. Gilbert grabbed Matthew's hand and pulled him along, like an urgent mother.

It took Matthew only a moment to realize why. Gilbert had to assume the protective role now, with Matthew being so vulnerable. They were being watched, and Gilbert knew just as well as Matthew that if they were in a serious fight, Matthew being injured would be much more impactful than Gilbert.

God, he was so embarrassed. It wasn't his fault he was human now, not his fault that he wasn't tied to immortality or a landmass anymore, but he felt like it was. He was being a burden to Gilbert for being mortal, a burden to the kids for not being able to protect them, and a burden to himself.

They brushed past leaves and bushes, clumps of flowers and rocks. It was, by all accounts, a beautiful island, but it wasn't safe. It felt hostile.

Matthew tried to run like Gilbert, but all his limbs felt big and clumsy, like he was wearing sandbags. Shortness of breath, dizziness, headaches.

His body wasn't holding up. Gilbert tugged harder and practically dragged him along. Yet, the albino said nothing. Was is fragility, or something else?

Matthew did the same and shut his mouth. He clung to Gilbert's hand for dear life as they just ran. Things whizzed tpast their heads and feet. Neither could afford the time to examine the projectiles, but to Matthew at least, it sounded like knifes.

_"Scheiße!"_

What did that mean? Look out? Stop?

Didn't really matter either way, as both were stopped dead in their tracks by a golden fan. It sliced through Matthew's shirt, gliding by his side and only giving small cuts, and burrowing itself in the tree right ahead. The sheer pain of it all made Matthew stop.

It was only a small cut.

It hurt more than when he was hit by bullets.

Gilbert came to a dead stop and yanked the fan out of the ground, holding it like an axe. Blood, real, warm blood, trickled from the cut.

He could die. He could die right now.

Matthew could die just like all the people he'd fought with over the years. The young boys, seasoned soldiers, and everyone in between.

His breath hitched, and his brain panicked. He'd died before, but he'd always come back. Was even really death? Would his death now feel different?

"Knock it off." Gilbert growled, elbowing Matthew. "Focus."

He'd been so focused on the cut to realize he was crying. He looked to his companion. Gilbert's face was stone cold and serious. The classic Prussian.

Matthew wiped his tears. All he could mutter was, "Okay."

The trees rustled and they tensed in unison. Figures in green, black, and gold dropped down. All of their faces were painted in black, red, and white.

Matthew stared in shock before he lost consciousness.

They were all women. 

* * *

Gilbert's POV

Verdammt.

He hoped that Matthew would be able to last through the battle, but one of the attackers swiftly grabbed him from behind. The blonde's neck went slack instantly.

It was up to him to keep Matthew alive and defeat 6 highly trained soldiers single-handedly.

Not that big of a deal for someone as awesome as him.

First task was to get Matthew back before they could hide him. He lunged at the soldier, fan stretched outwards. It has heavy, perfect for a nice, strong attack.

They deftly dodged, sliding to the left and hitting him in the back with the flat side of their weapon. He turned and grabbed her wrist, throwing her over his shoulder and slamming her into the ground. The other warriors moved to attack, jumping on him to try to bring Gilbert to his knees.

Gilbert threw the first two off, but more and more kept piling on. His knees gave out, and he fell on the fan. Luckily, it was on the flattened side.

The warriors were yelling in their strange language, and Gilbert was reminded again to start working on his communication skills. He held out his hands, weapon tucked under his body, signaling that he was unarmed. Hopefully, they'd get off.

One by one, the warriors climbed off, but in exchange for the ability to breath again, his arms and legs were restrained by some sort of rope. It was thick, at least a few cm in diameter, but not particularly impossible to break out of. The warriors eyed him carefully, like he was a caged animal.

He hated that look. It was the same look he got from the Teutonic Knights when they found out that him, a cursed child, one bewitched with red eyes and an unaging body, was their representative. The look Austria gave him almost every time he visited back in the 19th century, begging to create Germany.

A look of utter disdain and hatred. It was toned down in these warriors, but it was still ever so present.

Maybe it was just their face paint hiding their true feelings.

He doubted it.

The warriors grabbed him by the arms and feet and hefted him off of the ground. The golden fan was grabbed by one of the warriors and tucked into her belt. So much for cutting the ropes.

Steadily, they carried him and Matthew through the brush like ants bringing food to their queen.

Were the humans Matthew was travelling with already there? Or had they escaped the strangely dressed warriors' clutches?

It didn't matter much. Gilbert was more focused on kicking ass than escaping at the moment. No one got away with looking at him like that.

He sneezed, and one of the girls laughed at it. But it wasn't a judgmental laugh, but one of pure joy. Her smile seemed genuine and her eyes seemed to sparkle with a playful light. The others carrying him glared at her.

Gilbert decided he'd kick her ass less.

The first thing they did when they brought Gilbert and Matthew to their settling was tie them up more. The Canadian snoozed through it all, and Gilbert remained angry while more ropes were wrapped around their torsos and their backs forced against a wooden pole. Children's laughter could be heard in the distance, but he could not see them, for he was facing in the opposite direction.

The warriors looked anxious, like something was wrong. Not one stood out to Gilbert as the leader, despite all their outfits being personalized. Several warriors even backed up, like they doubted if tying Matthew and Gilbert was a good idea at all.

He sighed and tried to get more comfortable. If it was gonna take ages until something was done, Gilbert wasn't going to wait in discomfort.

But, despite his best efforts, while his back was moved to a more comfortable spot, being in direct sunlight was nothing he could do anything about. His skin reddened pretty quickly, and he could just tell he was going to be peeling later.

Time passed, and gradually less and less of the warriors watched them. Now, it was just him, Matthew, and the smiley warrior.

The warrior approached him and felt his skin with their fingers. Gilbert wanted to pull back, but the wooden pole stopped him. What were they doing?

They uttered something softly and ran off, leaving them completely unattended. For warriors that were able to completely take him down, their security system sucked. Gilbert started separating the individual fibers from the rope and breaking them, like a longer form of gnawing with your nails. It only took one cut in the rope for the whole thing to be loose.

The warrior returned with a hat. It was conical, and made from a yellowish leaf. It looked a lot like the cone hats Vietnam wore.

The warrior strapped in to his head and smiled. Shade. Was his face really that pink?

He tried to make any facial expression and stopped almost immediately. Yep, definitely burned. His skin burned. The warrior looked worried, just by the shape of their eyes.

"I'm fine!" Gilbert said impulsively, even though it had no value to her. But she looked surprised by the outburst anyways. They stepped back and tried to say something to him.

It was just a jumble of words. Syllables mashed and molded together into words that made sense to them, but not to him. Damn language barriers.

They laid their gloved hand on his and said a few more words. Gilbert blinked back and said the only thing he knew in their language.

"Hello."

Still sounded Cantonese. 

* * *

The sun had nearly set before he saw them again. The warrior swapped with another one and disappeared to the village behind him, and left him silent once more. While the hat provided shade for him, Matthew was cooking in the raw sun. His skin was nearing deep red in some areas, and in others, it'd already begun peeling. Not only that, but the sun was right in his eyes. Every time he wanted to look at something, light was there to stop him.

It wasn't the worst he'd endured, but it was pretty cruel of a treatment towards captives you've never seen.

All the while, he'd just been picking at the rope, unweaving the strands and breaking them. Only a small portion was left, and he had to be careful in timing for his grand escape. Above everything, Matthew had to be awake.

He opened his eye. The sun so was so close to properly setting. Then he'd be free to see once more, and Matthew would be saved from the mercy of the sun. The golden rays were amplified by the waves, and even with his hat on, he was burning up. It was at too difficult of an angle to block.

More talking in the strange language behind him. Gilbert stilled.

There were a series of hacking sounds, and the rope fell to his feet. Matthew fell to the ground face first, which properly woke him up.

Gilbert walked forward. He felt so stiff, and his legs were wobbly. He faced away from the sun, and before him was the village he'd been hearing for the past few hours.

Matthew lifted his face out of the dirt, groaning. "Wha-what?"

Gilbert leaned down to help his friend up, and Matthew happily accepted Gilbert's help. Matthew faltered, but Gilbert made sure he stayed steady.

_"Are you okay?"_

Matthew pushed up his glasses. He looked younger, if possible. His eyes were wide and frightened.

_"I think so. Where are we?"_

_"Some island. Don't you remember zhe fight?"_

_"What fight?"_

Gilbert sighed. Matthew was definitely struggling.

_"Vell, you did get knocked out pretty quick..."_

Matthew's eyes got bigger, somehow._ "I'm so sorry for making you have to worry about me!"_

Gilbert shook his head. _"Don't worry about it. We're fine!"_

He wondered how long it would take until Matthew realized his face looked like a horror movie monster's. Peeling skin, face red and raw, so much sweat that he could fill a lake.

"Actually..." Gilbert turned. Someone broke them free. His eyes locked onto one of the warriors. It wasn't the nicer warrior from before, but another one, more willow-like in stature.

They said something in gibberish. The gibberish Matthew apparently knew. He looked towards his blonde companion for a translation.

Matthew didn't tell him immediately, instead opting to converse with the other warrior in the same language for a bit. Gilbert waited patiently, standing behind the pole for a bit more shade in the meanwhile.

Matthew wrapped it up eventually, thankfully. Gilbert cleared his throat to remind Matthew he was still there, which did the trick.

_"Oh! Sorry Gilbert. She was just saying that she was told to set us free." _

_"And?" _Wait-She?

_"And that we're not seen as threats anymore."_

Wow, second time he pulled a Hungary. Gilbert pushed himself off of the pole and stretched everything he could. _"Can you ask her if we're allowed into their village?"_

Matthew talked with them woman. Gilbert held his breath, waiting for a response.

The woman replied.

_"She said yes!"_

Gilbert relaxed. _"That's good. We can get some water, maybe some proper shade and ointment for sunburns..."_

_"Would they even have that in this world? I mean, looking around, I'd think it would be all homeopathic stuff and herbal remedies."_ Matthew wiped off the sweat gathering on his forehead.

He was right. From living in that Air Temple to seeing the weapons the warriors used, it seemed Metallurgy was used, stone work, and other practices similar to it, but no electricity. He wondered if they even had gun powder.

This world reminded him of when he was young. Before Matthew was even born. A time where plague ran rampant, guns were metal tubes that you shot metal balls out of, and most people were illiterate. It was a strange and dangerous world, but then again, it still was. The dangers had just shifted over time. It was now the dangers of nuclear warfare, economic collapse, the obesity epidemic.

He sighed. Thinking about this was too time consuming. He could do it later.

_"Let's find out then, huh? Come on, maybe they'll even give us some food." _He patted Matthew on the back and gave a nod to the warrior. Behind her red and white face makeup, he could see disapproval.

Ah, she didn't want to set them free, but a higher up ordered it. He'd have to find her boss and thank them, after learning how to say "Thank you" in the local dialect of course. Probably would be a good idea to start learning key phrases.

After being tied to a pole for a while, his legs felt like jelly. He ignored it. They'd been through much, much worse, and because of that, he knew they weren't going to collapse anytime soon. They walked in front of the warrior, heading towards the sounds of civilization.

Wow, this was the first time in months he'd seen people.

The idea just hit him out of nowhere, like a tree branch falling on his head. If he were a human, he'd probably be overwhelmed from the extensive social interaction. But after growing up in a time where you may not see anyone you knew for years, it wasn't that hard of a transition.

Still odd that he didn't realize it earlier.

It was barely a few paces before they reached the village. The houses and buildings were set up in parallel lines, like military barracks. At the top of the sloping hill was a larger house than any of the others, making the whole village an upside down u shape. The people walking around were all dressed in the same blue robes, most also wearing headbands or fabric head-wraps.

Most "ignored" them. They didn't directly confront neither Matthew nor Gilbert, though he did catch many side glances and whispers. Looking different does that to you.

He pressed on. He couldn't understand them anyways, so why care what they thought? He was awesome, and they were the stupid ones for not knowing it.

Matthew seemed more interested in the villager's chatter, so much so that he left Gilbert's side to talk to a few. Gilbert watched, already amused.

How long would it take for the kid to realize being a decent bit taller than most men and looking completely ethnically different would gain him mistrust? He gave it to the count of three.

One, he approached a family.

Two, he began to talk.

Three, they walked away. 

* * *

Dylan's POV

The air was warm for the first time in ages. San Francisco was known for fog, gloom, and the homeless population(3rd one didn't really apply to temperature, but he felt he had to include it, being part of the population himself). It was known for the cool seeping into your bones during the day, and the fog becoming so bad you could hardly see a few feet in front of you on occasion. In short, it was known for being miserable most days.

But not today. The sun was out and shining, and there was hardly any clouds in the sky. He sat on a bench near the docks, sunning himself. People, tourists, and business employees passed by him, all heading in different directions. He just sat there, relaxing. No need to do anything at the moment, not like he would either way.

Just him and the sun. It was like...when he sat down, and didn't do anything, he could hear a second heartbeat. Not his own, no, this was too quick. It was large, deep, and powerful. Something that sounded like a drum. Growing stronger and strong by the day. He didn't know if it was some sort of disorder, but even if it was, he had no money to get it checked out. Plus, it wasn't bothering him right now, so why worry?

But as the minutes lingered, and city sounds surrounding him refused to waver, he grew tired of doing nothing. But what was there to do? He'd done his homework, already worked his shift for the day, and cleaned up his little corner of the Earth he temporarily called home.

He could play the name game again, or go do some "hero-ing", or just randomly help out the community. At the moment, the Name Game was calling to him the most.

The game went like this. He'd stare at someone, and a name would pop into his head. Then, he'd try to figure out if it was the right name or not. Very seldom did he get it wrong.

He scanned the area and found an old man, probably Hispanic by his skin tone, walking by with a walker. The name was Eliseo Garcia.

He approached the man with a friendly smile. "Are you Eliseo Garcia, by chance?"

The man paid him no mind. Dylan's shoulders slumped a tad bit, but he tried again, this time a bit louder.

"Are you Mr. Eliseo Garcia, sir?"

The old man looked at Dylan through his thick, large glasses. "Eh?"

"Are you Mr. Eliseo Garcia?"

"Si, I am."

Great. 1 point so far. Now, how to explain how he knew Mr. Garcia. He quickly analyzed the outfit the man was wearing, his physical fitness, the expensiveness of everything on him.

"I'm the grandson of your old friend Ralph. Do you remember him?"

The old man blinked and shook his head. "Sorry, I do not."

"He just passed away a while ago and I was told that you were the reason he became the man he did." He kinda felt bad for lying, but maybe it'd warm this old man's heart to know(or, think, rather) that he influenced someone.

The old man coughed hard, the effort making his whole body shake. Dylan quickly, instinctively even, placed his arm on the old man's back to keep him from falling.

"Gracias."

"You're welcome." He didn't say anything else, but he walked alongside the old man a bit until he was sure he would be safe. He waved goodbye quickly and retreated. He didn't want to interfere with this old man any longer.

Maybe he should've stuck to the "I'm a psychic" explanation.

He went back to the main square, scanning for someone else. No, not a busy mom. Not a dangerous looking man...

His eyes locked on an absolute statue of a man, probably 6'4" if not more. He was walking alongside a man who was, in comparison, much shorter. The taller man had blonde, wispy hair that reached to the nape of his neck, though the tail ends were tied into a short ponytail. His eyes were a light, light purple, and blonde scruff sprouted on his chin.

His shorter companion had medium length brown hair, sunglasses, and a biker's jacket. They seemed to be looking around for something. Perfect candidates for the Name Game. He looked directly at the short one first and waited for the name.

He was confused by the results. Very confused. Because he got two names.

Liam Jones and Washington.

Maybe it wasn't working right. He looked at the blonde guy next to him.

Once again, two names.

James Williams and Canada.

Okay, so maybe now he could figure out where people were from too?

He randomly looked at the closest person. A young preteen walking by. He got her name, but not her state.

What was going on?

There were two, maybe three things he could do with this. He could confront the two men and ask if they were from Washington and Canada, he could just ignore the location part and continue the Name Game, or just stop playing entirely.

Well, knowledge is power, right? Might as well figure out everything. He approached the men.

"Hi, are you Liam and James?"

The two men shared a look. "Liam" took out a photo(or he assumed it was one, based on the shape), and looked between it and Dylan. His companion did the same.

"It's Hailey's boy alright." "Liam" grumbled and shoved the photo back in his pocket.

"James" looked uncertain. For someone so tall and intimidating, he acted young. Weird. "Are you sure? He doesn't feel, y'know, normal. He feels like he's like us."

"I don't know everything, okay?"

Dylan backed up a bit. Hailey, "feeling" like them-who were these guys? And the location thing only made him grow uneasier. They felt wrong to him.

"Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to bother you. I'll just leave you alone." Crappy excuse, but he didn't care what they thought because he turned and ran. Nope. He wasn't going to deal with this. He could handle the occasional drunk, but these guys had a photo of him. They knew Hailey.

He had to get away.

He ran through the crowds, bumping into people. He apologized as he went, but he couldn't stop. Who knows how fast these guys could run.

Not at all to his surprise, he heard shouts behind him. "Hey!" "Wait!" "Is that a pickpocket!?" and more.

He didn't offer any explanation. He knew the alleys well enough. He could disappear there.

But of course, the universe wasn't on his side. Because Hailey walked _right in front of him_.

They collided on impact, and both tumbled back onto the ground.

Footsteps rushed up behind him. There was no escape. He couldn't recover the time he lost.

Meanwhile, Hailey was complaining about her avocado toast, which lay flat on the ground, now ruined in her eyes. Some people's worries are worse than others.

He felt strong arms wrap around him and heft him up.

"Hey, there's no need to run." "Liam"'s voice. "We weren't gonna hurt you, all right? No need to get freaked out."

"Ugh, jeez Dylan, you actually ran from my brother? He's so lame. How'd you think he was scary?" Hailey complained, picking herself up from the ground.

"Excuse me, but your brother? Which one's your brother?" His voice rose in pitch.

"James, you can put him down." "Liam" said.

The arms that were holding him up suddenly released. Dylan nearly fell once more, but caught himself. He wobbled and used Hailey for support. Great, recap time.

Hailey was the sister of "Liam" or "James", they had a picture of him, and he could tell where they were from but apparently no one else.

He breathed deeply, closed his eyes, and counted to ten. He needed to be calm.

"You ready to stand still?"

He nodded and opened his eyes. Hailey stood next to "Liam" and "James". All were looking at him with different expressions.

"Okay then, don't freak out. Yes, my name is Liam. Yes, Hailey is my sister. And yes, this dork is James." Liam said, flicking on his sunglasses. "What made you decide to approach us?"

Breathe. Just harmless questions. "I...do you mind if we go somewhere more private to talk?"

"I think that would be fine, right?" James seemed to be asking, even though he was one of the people Dylan had asked. Maybe Hailey's brother was a gang boss or something and James was his bodyguard?

Unlikely, but fun and terrifying to imagine.

"Yeah, I don't really care. Dylan's chill guys. He's not like Alfred, like, in personality, but he's the same in a lot of ways." Hailey agreed.

"I personally don't see it. Alfred would never run from a fight, or anything. This guy ran after he asked us our names."

"Well, no one's perfect, right?" James squirmed.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Sure, we'll go elsewhere. But if he tries to run, I'm gonna be pissed. Its already fucking hot out." Liam complained

The four of them walked soundlessly through San Francisco. Dylan was quiet out of fear and the fact he was too busy thinking to speak, and everyone else had to be quiet for their own reasons.

He led them to a quiet bakery that he occasionally got bread from if he was feeling particularly frivolous. Every sound seemed to jump out to him, from the sound of footsteps shifting from concrete to linoleum to the sound of the door's bell ringing.

"Good afternoon!" The cashier greeted. Dylan dipped his head in acknowledgement to the teen but didn't reply. He just slipped into one of the booths.

His posse actually took time to greet the boy before following suit. The room was quiet. It was only him, Hailey, Liam, James, and the teen in the bakery.

"So, we're here. Answer my question." Liam went straight to it.

He was sweating, but it wasn't from the heat outside. "Well, I have this thing...It's like a magic trick. I can know people's names just by looking at them. It's usually right. So...uh, well, I was playing a game with it and I decided to try it out on you and well..."

"Just get to it."

"I didn't just get a name, but a location for you two. Washington and Canada."

Hailey started to laugh. "Hey, have you ever played that game with me?"

He was confused by her unrelated question, but then again, it was Hailey. "Uh, no. You told me your name the first time we met."

"Try it out right now, please."

He looked right at her.

He got two names, once more. Hailey Jones and California.

"I...Hailey Jones. California." He stuttered.

"That's right. The reason you're getting two things is because those are both out names. I am both Hailey and California."

What?

"Have you ever heard of this one conspiracy theory that there are beings, ones who are immortal, that walk among you. That these beings are not aliens, or Gods, but creatures made from the Earth? That they are nations?" Hailey's eyes glittered full of light and curiosity. It was such an odd look on her face. She usually looked bored, or ditzy. It scared him.

"That those beings are part of their governments, or just simply living among you?" Liam added.

"No...?" He was gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were white.

"Well then, that makes this easier. A lot of stuff connected to those conspiracy theories make us seem evil or like, that we're controlling the government or something."

"Us. We. You're not telling me-"

"-That we're the locations you got? Yeah buddy, we are." James spoke up. "I understand how you feel. Not too long ago I was like you, thinking I was alone in the world. That I didn't know who I was. But now I do. I'm Canada, and according to what I'm getting, you're America."

No. No? No. No no no no no no no. No. This wasn't right. These people were crazy. Or maybe this was a dream? Had he fallen asleep on that bench?

It didn't feel like a dream.

"Breathe. Stay calm. You're safe." Hailey soothed.

He wanted to just bolt. He really, really wanted to. He'd switch schools and never see Hailey again. He'd forget these weirdos.

But deep within him, something stirred.

It called to him. Beckoning to come closer and hear what it had to say. Trance like, he willed it to speak. To tell him.

**_I am thou...Thou art I..._**

**_I am the you that you have ignored..._**

**_Come forth and learn_**

**_Of who you are..._**

His heart beat faster.

And suddenly, it hit him.

His name wasn't Dylan. Not even close.

His name, no, _names, _were Allan Jones and America.

He was the United States of America.

And he was going to pass out. 

* * *

James' POV

To his credit, at least America managed to pass out without knocking over anything. Hailey caught him with her arms and lowered him down gently making sure he wouldn't be hurt. Liam looked surprised, and so did Hailey. James just kinda sat there.

"So he managed to pass out. If this kid's legit, how do you think he'd manage to handle any of the shit Al had to go through every day? Fucking just national politics are shit, think about going international. If he reacted that badly to James, how do you think he'd react to Ivan?" Liam groaned. "I will never be paid enough for this."

"Try to think positive. It means he actually cares and thinks about things. Maybe we need that in the international arena. Someone new." Hailey argued back.

James wanted to say, "I'm new." but he doubted it'd make anything better.

"Oh yeah, I'd love to see my "dad" wet himself every time he went to a world conference. Hailey, this kid's a wimp." He did air quotes as he said "dad".

Hailey huffed. "Don't be so hecking negative! You just met him today, but I've known him for months. I've taken classes with him, spent time after school with him-"

"-You went to school?" James interrupted.

"Yes, I did. The point is, he's not just a wimp. He's extremely smart, and proud of it too. He doesn't try to cover it up like Al. He's simple and honest. We need someone like that. And if he's America, the reason he's like that in the first place is because America wants that. Aren't you tired of lies? Tired of pretending that the world can be fixed by heroes? I sure am. I pretended to be stupid because I impulsively want to. But it feels so nice just to say what I feel. You need to look at Dylan for what he is, not what he seems like."

She was angry. She stared at Liam, gaze harsh and unforgiving like the weather outside. The tension was unbearable. Liam's gaze was equally hard.

He gave in. "Fine. I won't bitch about him as much. But he's your problem, not mine." He stood and played with his leather jacket. "Bye James. Nice meeting you."

"Wait! You're just leaving?" James asked.

Liam pushed up his shades. "That was the agreement, right? A deal's a deal."

"And you're just going to push a person who just learned they're a nation onto your sister for her to deal with it on her own? Can't you stay a little longer?"

"I've already spent enough time driving you around. If Hailey could afford to go to school, she can afford to take care of America. Bye." He left without another word. James watched him go, unsure of what to do. Hailey shook him out of his stupor by placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Its alright. Washington's always like that. I'm fine." She huffed. She was twirling her blonde hair with her finger, a nervous tick.

She clearly wasn't okay. If this was a fight between two states that were usually politically on the same side, how bad were the arguments between her and Texas?

"How about I buy you a coffee at least?" He wanted to do something to cheer her up.

She sniffed a bit. "Would you mind if we actually had tea? I've found myself liking it more and more recently."

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind at all." He smiled and helped her sit down. "Just stay put. I'll order. What do you like?"

"White tea, please."

He nodded and approached the teen working at the counter. Unlike before when he greeted them cheerfully, he looked almost frightened. "Uh...um...wou-would you like like anything?"

Of course he'd be frightened. He heard everything.

"One white tea and one green, please. Oh, and a cinnamon coffee cake."

Shaking, the teens nodded vigorously and zoomed through his work. He looked like a ball of anxiety and nerves. James wished he knew how to soothe him, calm him down.

The teen shoved the two teas and coffee cake at James. "Tha-tha-that'll be be $8.67."

Cheap. Nice choice on America's behalf. He looked in his wallet and pulled out an American $10.

"Keep the change as a tip." He grabbed the tea and walked back to the table. Hailey looked better.

"Here's your white tea. And I got something in case either you or America got hungry."

"That's sweet, err, I mean nice. No pun intended." Hailey sipped her tea delicately. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. It was the first time I've paid with American money. Why do you willingly keep it all the same color?"

She chuckled. "If you haven't figured it out by now, Americans are stubborn. It's been green ever since we've had paper bills, and it'll probably stay green for decades more."

"Its so weird..." He muttered to nobody in particular.

"A lot of things here are. But that's just how it is." She sighed. "I don't know how I'm gonna handle Dylan when he wakes up. Usually he's the rational one, but today...well, the tides have turned."

He looked at the passed out brunette. "He doesn't look like the old America at all...Or act like he used to, from what I've heard."

"He's different alright, but he's a good person. I just hope the world isn't too harsh on him, but it probably will be. DC's been acting in his stead for a while now. Being the center of the world means everyone judges you. I'm worried how he'll handle it. He's mentally a teenager. Not an adult."

Her hands shook, and tears formed. "I'm scared for him."

He didn't know what to do. Give her an awkward pat and tell her it was going to be even if he wasn't sure himself? That felt like lying. So he sat in silence once more.

Out of everything, he wasn't expecting anything like this. Not at all.

And in truth, he was scared too. 

* * *

Author's note

Okay so, it has taken me over a month to getting around to write this for a lot of reasons. Thankfully, the flames went away almost as soon as I published the last chapter, so that wasn't the problem. In the time I procrastinated, I:

-Had my birthday  
-Broke up with my first boyfriend ever  
-Worked super hard on my grades and managed to bring them up higher than any this year  
-Joined the Discord server and met these amazing people who give me support and commentary that makes me smile. Thanks to all of you who I'm referring to.

I thought I'd lost inspiration, but my close friend DMed me one night and asked why I stopped. I had no answer. And so, I wrote and wrote. All my love came rushing back. I probably won't be able to stick to a rigid updating schedule, but I'll try to not make you wait more than two weeks.

Thank you for waiting. I read every review, and every single one makes me happy.

I love you all.

Msperfectsheep.


	10. IM NOT DEAD

SO UM

HEY

IM NOT DEAD?

To be more precise-I'm back! I lost motivation after COVID struck, and it was just a sludge to get back into ATLA while seemingly everyone else on the internet was. But finally, finally, I've been re-inspired. If any of you have been checking for updates since my last one, then holy fuck I'm so sorry for going AWOL. Everything's planned out, don't worry, and trust me I will finish this fic even if it takes 8 years. I just needed to get the ball rolling again.

I re-read some parts and was like, "Yikes, why did I do this to myself?" but oh well im not changing it and i'll have to stick with it. It's not gonna be my greatest fic, but it's still gonna be a journey.

Please, if you have a moment, leave a comment on your favorite chapter so far! I love reading what you all have to say, especially when one person goes on a massive rant for 5 paragraphs. And if you like Hetalia, Persona, SMT, Harry Potter, or others, please check out my profile! I'm trying to get some of my works off the ground, and support from people like you helps a bunch.

So yeah, thank you for checking out my story, and I'll get the next chapter out within the next week I swear. (It's already 1/6 of the way done!)

Love you all, and sorry for the Midnight update if you live in the US.

Msperfectsheep

(This chapter may be deleted later, not sure yet)


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